


Castaway

by IndefiniteHeaven



Series: Castaway Universe [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Donald Duck, Depression, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, F/M, Family Conflict, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marooned, Other, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Please let me know if I need to add a trigger warning to a chapter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-04-11 16:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 174,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndefiniteHeaven/pseuds/IndefiniteHeaven
Summary: What if Della and the boys didn’t land at the island Donald was marooned at?“I know what I have to do now. I got to keep breathing, because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?” Castaway, Tom Hanks
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, José Carioca/Panchito Pistoles
Series: Castaway Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959994
Comments: 207
Kudos: 556





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I-I can’t! That’s too much!”

Donald felt the intense pressure of the force of acceleration push him far back into his seat as was humanly possible. The rocket ship trembled with the immense power, the cracking sound heard distantly to his ears. His head shook violently, vision appearing doubled. The Earth in the distance was rapidly approaching, faster than what was expected, though he barely had time to process that fact.

As his vision blurred, colors began to mesh together, his environment a kaldeiscope of the colors his eyes were capable of picking up. He couldn’t breathe, as the force increased. He felt overwhelmed as the colors began to turn into different shades he didn’t even know were physically capable of. The small space surrounding him begin to grow hot, sweat beading in his brow. 

His eyes rolled upward’s nearly allowing himself to pass out. Donald gasped suddenly, pushing himself forward out of his seat. He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched tight. “The k-k-kids!”

He felt as though his insides were boiling or it could have been the fury of the ship returning to his home planet. The duck swore his vision changed the closer he got, his boys all playing in the front lawn of the McDuck manor.m come to mind. He didn’t know if it was a memory or if he were somehow reaching through space and time to the moment. He didn’t even try to think about how that would be possible. The next second his vision cleared and he witnessed the blue vastness of ocean rapidly approaching the ship. 

Unable to help himself, he breathed in deeply on impact and the ship exploded around him as it crashed into the water below. Later on he would realize he had gaps in his memory about the entire event, but next thing he felt was wetness soaked him to the bone. A moment later he felt his face collide with a hard object, his bill clamping together as he tasted blood from the blow. He felt the currents slam heavily into his limp body, hot metal objects bouncing him around left and right.

By the time he had awoken(or maybe become aware of his surroundings?) Donald felt the water washing itself upon his back, the grain of sand burying itself in the feathers of his body. He laid there for a moment, allowing his vision blur back into focus. When it finally did he felt immediately dizzy taking in the sight of the sun in his eyes. “Ughhhhh....”

He lifted his head up briefly, spitting out bloody salt water that burned in his mouth, before lying it back down. He panted heavily, being able to tell that he had thrown up salt water that has filled his lungs at some unknown point, though he could not recall doing so. He was trembling, finally as though he were about to throw up from the pain that wrecked his body. He couldn’t even recall why he was lying here. That though frightened him. The duck’s chest felt tight with panic, choking on his breath. Donald passed out finally, allowing the pain to overwhelm his senses.  
*

Later, when he had awoken once more, the sun was in a different position, hot on the opposite side of his body. When he been awake last time, the sun was close to setting and now it seemed to be rising. He groaned, rolling over onto his back into the unforgiving sun. The water below him cooled his skin, though the salt burned every pore on his body. Donald could tell there were open wounds but everything hurt too much to be able to focus on just one thing. In that moment he realized he couldn’t feel his leg though and he slowly lifted his head. His vision swam with tears of pain, as he realized a huge golden piece of the spaceship was crushing his right leg. 

He promptly passed out once more.  
*

The duck couldn’t have guessed how much time had passed by the time he had come back to his senses, but the sun appeared to be directly above him now. He closed his eyes against the light, raising his left wing to cover his face. He hissed as he felt his side burn in response. “W-What...”

Without thinking too hard about it he suddenly pushed himself into a sitting position. He didn’t realize the screaming was coming from his own throat until he felt the burning from his volume rising so hard. He flopped back over, suddenly unconscious to the world.  
*

He found himself drifting in and out of consciousness, as agony wracked his weak body. The sun and the moon seemed to taunt him each time he did so. Other than the pain, he noticed he was growing hungry and thirsty as well. The duck knew he was going to die at this rate, especially since the smell of the blood seemed to constantly linger in his nostrils. 

When he finally had regained consciousness more than five minutes, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position once more. While his side burned again, it wasn’t enough to make him scream himself hoarse this time. He stared at this surroundings, realizing that he was washed up on the shore of an unknown island. He looked down slowly at his body, realizing half of his shirt was missed, scorch marks clearly visible on it. His feathers seemed blackened in the same area, suggesting that he had been burned. Donald counted himself lucky that it seemed his damaged feathers had protected his skin underneath.

He glanced at his side, finding an open wound to be gaping out into the sand. The waves washed up on the shore once more, brushing again his wound. He frowned at the salty pain and knew that the ocean’s salt had started the healing process. He was shaking vaguely, likely due to the lack of blood sugar at the moment or even the blood loss he experienced. He would guess from the healing and the hunger that he had been there at least a week by this point. 

“Dammit...” He mumbled to himself, glancing at his right arm to see that his hand clutched his white sailor cap, confused on how he had cling onto it that long. There also appeared to be a gash across his wrist and heavy bruising visible even underneath the light layer of feathers there. 

His eyes burned and his face throbbed, likely from the salt water and from bashing his face when he had collided with the ocean during the crash. He glanced down at his left leg, finding that while it appeared bruised, it appeared to be his least injured limb out of the bunch. Donald found himself finally glanced to this right, not surprised be unable to feel it, and see a huge chuck of the shapeship lying across it. Big enough that he wasn’t sure he could even lift it. He stared at his surroundings, finding a few chucks of the same material floating in the tide and lying on shore. 

He leaned forward, hissing as the pain in his head and side increased, pushing at the derby with all of his might. His injured wrist burned from the effort and he felt his open injury grow warm as it began to bleed once more. He ceased movement when he realized this. “Godammit!”

He was glad the boys weren’t around to hear him curse, the pain was enough that he began to let out a stream of dirty curses that would even make Scrooge blush at the sound of them. The kids. That thought made him try pushing once more, the metal groaning as it shifted. He let go, huffing from how hard he had pushed himself.

Donald sat there, vision swimming once more as he paced himself. He knew this might take a few hours. And it did in the end. He pushed it bit by bit, glad that his leg was numb, as he knew the pain would have been immense if it hadn’t. When he had it half way pushed off he paused, staring down at the strangely flat limp. He realized with a start that it might be beyond saving at that point. He whimpered at the thought, knowing even if he did manage to get himself out, the limp might already be dying.

He laid back down at the thought, knowing that half of the day had passed by this point. A few minutes later he sat back up, pushing as hard his can, until only his foot was still covered. Donald huffed, before tensing, as it occurred to him that he could feel pain in the leg. The duck supposed that was a could sign of it being salvageable, but was terrified of how his foot would feel. Suddenly, there was pins and needles, as though the blood was beginning to flow back into it. He screamed at the top of his lungs, before everything went dark again.  
*

He woke up to darkness, the moon and stars watching him from above. Donald felt tears streaming down his face at the intense pain his leg had suffered, knowing that his leg was definitely broken and partly crushed. He didn’t know that blood flowing back into a limp and out onto the sand could hurt as much as it did. It took everything in his will power not to pass out. “M-Maybe I should just let myself die...”

His voice was scratchy and he felt his stomach gurgle for the millionth time. He knew there were coconuts on the tree behind him, but he couldn’t even reach them. He knew he shouldn’t try what he was about to do, but he leaned forward anyways, cupping the water with his good hand, sipping at it. It felt good to have water in his throat, but it left him more parched than before.

Donald cursed at himself, before he thought of his boys probably waiting back at home for him. Of his Uncle, and Webby, and Launchpad worried out of their minds. He thought of Della, his sister he hadn’t seen in almost eleven years. With that thought in mind, he pushed the metal completely off of his foot, screaming at the pain from the effort. He flopped back onto the wet sand below as he cried for what he felt in that moment. 

He must have cried himself to sleep, but when he regained consciousness he could see that dawn was quickly approaching. Donald rolled over, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He crawled through the pain, slowly but surely making progress as the sun rose. Donald finally reached the tree, staring up at the coconuts hanging there. He looked to the sky, speaking aloud to any deity out there. “If you’re out there, please help me.”

The duck shook the tree, hard as he was capable of, the tropical fruit rattling into one another, but ceasing movement a moment later. He wheezed, knowing he didn’t have the strength. He was startled hearing the chirp from above, finding a beady eyed seagull staring down at him. “P-Please, help a duck out.”

He didn’t know who to thank, when the seagull pecked at a coconut, piercing it open, allowing sweet coconut water to flow out. He immediately opened his mouth, closing his eyes. He let the water flow down his face and into his bill and he began to sob at the relief he felt.

By the time the coconut had emptied itself, he felt much better, just by being provided water and nutrients. He rolled back over onto his behind, allowing himself to break for a few minutes. 

When Donald had finally had his breath back, he examined his crushed leg, the blood sluggishly bleeding out. He knew the bones inside were broken or possibly crushed into tiny pieces which made him feel sick to his stomach at the thought. The duck tried to quell his nausea, as his stomach didn’t have much to release. Donald breathed in deeply, before poking and prodding at the limb. He whimpered at the pain it produced. He wasn’t exactly an expert, yet he learned a bit of medical first aid during his time with the Navy. He thanked his lucky stars that of all places he was trapped on was an island, as that was military training 101.

First of all, he needed to wrap his leg until it had ceased bleeding. Donald gulped, before reaching out to a palm leaf nearby, beginning to turn a light color as it died. He lifted the leg and gasped aloud. The leaf was placed underneath and the damaged limb was placed back down once more. He rolled the plant around, tight as he could.

Donald stared down at the shirt, coming to a decision. He ripped a piece of the bottom half of it off, accidentally taking more of what was left of his shirt in the process. The strip was wrapped around the leaf, hands shaking as he tied a knot. The biggest issue was dealt with. He pulled himself up, using the tree for support. His good leg was shaking at the sudden weight placed onto it.

Donald looked forward, focusing on his goal of heading a bit into the jungle, hoping to find a few coconuts nearby. He didn’t know if it was luck finally being by his side or what, but he was surprised to find a few coconuts on the ground nearby. Donald gathered as many as possible, heading back to the beach.

When he arrived by the shore, he allowed himself to sit back down. He grabbed a sharp piece of gold metal stabbed into the sand. The metal was piercing into the hard shell of the fruit. After a few hits Donald found himself chugging a few of them to gain more strength. Unfortunately, he found himself drinking too many, and felt his stomach roll. Donald gagged once, twice, placing a hand over his mouth. He willed his body not to blow chunks and was surprised that it actually listened.

He allowed his body to refuel itself and he felt his strength slightly return. By that point, the duck realized his head was throbbing hard and he stared at the reflection of the sharp metal, seeing his bruised face staring back at him. He had never seen his face that dark of a color before. At least half of his face was a bruise. “Ah, phooey.”

He continued to study his reflection, surprised to discover the few feathers beginning to grow underneath his bill. He knew after a few weeks he would have a full blown beard. He sighed aloud at the thought, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. It had never felt good to have that underneath there. Donald dropped the metal, staring off into the distance. Nothing but ocean for miles it seemed.

The duck sniffled a bit, allowing tears to once more swim in his eyes. For the first time since he arrived on the island, Donald allowed himself to sob out his emotions.  
*

As the week progressed, Donald’s wounds were finally manageable enough that he could actually build shelter. He was glad he was mostly covered in feathers or he knew his skin would surely be sunburnt by this point. He was able to keep a tally of the days, by counting a rock he made rocks on. He would guess he had at least two weeks built on the time here by that point.

His side wound, that he had wrapped with a leaf, no longer bleed, but was an open wound that he tried to rarely expose to the elements. He supposed the only reason he didn’t get an infection, was the ocean water that had washed it out the first week here. He had been worried about his leg gaining an infection as well, but it turned out the ocean had been cleaning that as well, during the time had been flattened. As time passed though, he noticed he was losing feeling in his leg once more. He knew at this rate that his leg was going to be a lost cause.

Donald ignored it at the moment though, once again using pieces of rock, metal, and branches to make SOS signs for anyone that might be passing by overhead. So far he hadn’t seen anyone and he couldn’t even predict when someone would show up. He didn’t even know where he was.

The duck tried to not think about the fact that the only thing he might see happen soon would be that army of rocket ships coming from space soon. A sign of the invasion that was heading to the planet. He tried not to think too hard about that.

The first time he came across watermelon on the island, he nearly wept in relief. He finally had something other than fish and the coconuts to eat. He eat an entire one in one sitting the first time he came across one. It was the happiest he had felt on the island up until that point. The second one he picked up though, he stared at, thinking about a friend he hadn’t seen in years.

By the end of the day, Mickey Melon had been born and it felt like his old college days all over again. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have known that talking to a piece of fruit was insane. Being alone messed with you over time though and he was not liking how quiet it constantly was when he didn’t have anyone to talk to.

By the time the third week rolled around, he had begun to feel physically sick and his leg had begun to turn a ghastly pale color. “It’s dying, isn’t it, Mickey?”

Mickey Melon stared blankly at him and he felt himself speaking the words that he was sure to be spoken in return to a question like that. “Donald, I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

“I don’t...I just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anyone to fix this!”

“...I’m sorry, buddy, but you know what you’re going to have to do if no one finds you soon.”

Donald began to cry in earnest as fear engulfed him. “I-I can’t! That’s too much!”

Mickey Melon didn’t answer that and the duck spent the rest for night thinking about the fact that might have to get rid of his leg for the sake of staying alive.  
*

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed after he removed his leg, but it reminded him of the first week he was stuck on the island. He was in and out of consciousness and certain he was going to die. He thought of his family, memories flashing before his eyes. He woke up several times, hot with fever, pain from where he had removed his leg. Donald was beginning to accept the fate that he wouldn’t make it through this alive. That he would never make it home.

Just when he thought he would pass in his sleep, he woke up one day, realizing his fever had gone down. He looked down at the stump he had now, being washed by the ocean. He grabbed one of the leaves he had dragged over there right before he removed the limb. It was wrapped firmly around his wound and he laid back down. “How am I even alive?”

“I don’t know, but I sure am glad you are, buddy.” Mickey Melon was at his side, smiling blanket at him as usual.

“...I don’t know if I am.” He answered his friend, knowing that wasn’t going to be able to walk for at least a good two days.

In the end, four days passed instead though and he crawled back to his makeshift hut he had created by the largest palm tree nearby. He cracked open his stash of watermelons lying there, eating until he felt full. Donald could barely walk with his limp that he had before and now he couldn’t walk at all on his one leg. He wasn’t sure how long he would remain stranded, but he knew it was likely going to be a long time by that point.  
*

He was pretty confident that he was there for a month and a week when he saw the spaceships approaching the Earth. Donald screamed at the sight, horrified by what was happening. He was afraid that they would see his SOS on the shore and crawled to it. He tried to dismantle it as fast as he could. He had barely finished the first S when a ship flew overhead.

Donald cowered on the shore, the shadow looming over head, shocked when the ship continued on. At least two other ships did the same, ignoring his tiny island as they traveled directly forward of his hut. He knew by this point that he was personally safe, but worried about his family.

Donald spent two days straight awake, fearing for the safety of the world. Mickey tried to soothe him, but it wasn’t enough. He sobbed more than he had ever had in his entire life during that time with anxiety consuming him whole. By the fourth day, he saw a ship shoot into the sky, wildly out of control. He didn’t know what it meant and that made him more scared than before.

By the time another week had passed, Donald knew the Earth was fine. He was certain by this point the planet would had exploded. Or something else at least, instead of leaving him to continue to be stranded on this island. He wasn’t sure what had happened during the invasion, but with all the heroes in the world, he was certain at least one of them had protected it.

Donald thought about his kids everyday. He thought about the fact that they would have started 7th grade by this point, going off to finally be actual teenagers. He thought about Webby finally being allowed to go to public school, instead of being cooped up in the mansion all day to be taught by Ms. Beakley. He thought about his promise to Launchpad to go see the anniversary showing of Darkwing Duck: The First Movie in theaters and how he would no longer be able to do so. He thought about Uncle Scrooge continuing to go on adventures with his family. He thought about his sister finally being able to get to know her sons. He thought about friends he hadn’t thought about in years and wondered why he stopped talking to any of them.

Donald Duck replaced the letter S, hopeful that someone would finally see his message from the sky. He was going to be rescued one day. His Uncle Scrooge spent two years straight looking for his sister, before he was forced to stop. He would surely spend at least the same amount of time looking for Donald. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edit: Accidentally deleted original note, but I’ll talk about what was happening in this chapter instead. Originally I wanted to create a collection of hurt/comfort oneshots and I knew Donald had to be the first one I wrote about. After writing the opening sequence I got a really bad idea and decided to leave Donald stuck on an island and thought about how this could work as a story in the long run. I wanted to create a serious story that still kept the heart of the cartoon at it’s core and thus Castaway was born! Thank you for taking the time to read this: Kudos and feedback are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was...he was on the moon and he...he tried to warn you of the invasion and I tried...I tried to help him and he got in one of our prototypes....Della, oh, Della. I’ve seen the footage, no one could have survived being in one of them...”

Donald Duck was dead. 

When the first anniversary had snuck up on the family, everyone took notice. It was the first anniversary of him going missing and never returning to their lives again. The family had patiently awaited a month for him to return from his cruise he had never gone on, to have him finally reunited with his sister. But, then the Moon Invasion happened. 

They had been so caught up for the four days it happened, that they completely forgot that Donald should have returned ages ago.

Della had tried to run off with the boys during the fight, hoping to hide them away so that they could live to see another day. Of course, they saw right through her, and they ended up crash landing on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean when they fought for control of the Sunchaser. She supposed she should have been surprised when Gladstone and Fethry showed up on the back of a huge shrimp, after the event but she really wasn’t in the end.

“We were just in the area, when we noticed your plane and saw the crash.” Gladstone answered to her inquiry about how they had appeared in the middle of nowhere.

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the words. Gladstone finally sighed, before clearing up everything. “More like I was scooping the area for hot beach destinations.”

That seemed to be more believable, and they quickly headed back to Duckburg in order to finally return to the battle at home. Back, to rescue their Uncle Scrooge from a terrible fate.

After the fight against the Moon Invasion, the Moon people began to be incorporated into the city of Duckburg and nearby St. Carnard with the help of Della Duck. The two cities were bursting from the seams with the new citizens that now inhabited the space. On the same day they had decided to do so, Penny and Della finally had a proper conversation with one another for the first time in months.

“Penny!” Della cried out through the crowd of their new friends.

Penny turned away from one of her alien friends. A surprising smile graced her features, as the duck approached. Della found the smile to be infectious, excited that her roommate was able to be here. “Della Duck!”

Della reached out, as though wanting to hug in a greeting, before she hesitated. Penny rolled her eyes, pulling her into a hug of her own accord. “I don’t hate you you know.”

Della hugged her back firmly, smiling wide. “I knew it!”

“Oh, shut up...” The alien pulled away, putting her at arm’s distance. Her eyebrows suddenly furrowed as she stared at her friend. Della had never seen such an expression on her face. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“What for?”

“I...I didn’t realize that he...he was planning on taking over your planet before it was too late...” She looked haunted, deep in thought. “I’ve known Lunaris for 16 years and I never knew he planned on doing any of that...”

She received a smile in return, watching the tears well in her friends eyes. “I’m really glad you’re not a war hungry monster, too.”

“What? You’re not furious at me?”

“Of course not! I’m just glad you weren’t trying to kill me also!”

Penny glanced away in a panic. “Uhhhhh....”

“Whose this now?” Scrooge approached them, raising any eyebrow at the close pair.

“Oh, Uncle Scrooge, this is Penny! We were roommates on the moon!”

Penny looked back up, studying the older duck, nodding curtly. “You must be the great Scrooge McDuck. Della told us all many tales about your adventures....to be honest though, I had thought she had made many of them up.”

“You did?!” Della cried out in shock. “Why would I even lie to you about that?”

Penny glanced away. “I...may have been jealous of the way you seemed to win over the people of my planet and thought that your stories were a manipulation in doing so.”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow at that. “I believe I should leave you two to catch up.”

“Wait, sir,” Penny found herself reaching out to the older duck, hesitating to touch his hands, before she clasped them behind her back instead. “I simply wish to apologize for all the damages and to...to offer my condolences for your loss.”

“My wh-?” Scrooge seemed bewildered by the words and Della frowned in confusion as well. Before he could finish his sentence though, the children had gathered around them in visible excitement.

“Ohhhhh! You must be Penny!” Webby approached the alien excitedly. “I’m Webby!”

Penny stared at the hand offered, frowning. Della leaned over to her, whispering. “You grab her hand and shake it.”

She flushed at the words, grabbing Webby’s offered digit. “I knew that...Greetings, Webby, I am Penumbra, from Planet Moon.”

The young duck squinted at her. “The moon isn’t a planet.”

“That’s what I said!” Della agreed and Penny pulled away her hand with a angry frown. “Oh, don’t be like that!”

Penny noticed the triplets approaching her as well, looking on in awe at her presence. She was startled when they all began to ask several questions at once. She backed up slightly in a mild panic at the onslaught and thankfully Webby interrupted them a brief moment later. “Hold on, you guys!”

They paused, staring at her with raised eyebrows, before Webby continued. “I want to ask questions, too!”

Della simply laughed as Penny was continued to be bombarded ruthlessly by the four ducks.  
*

Later, when things had calmed, the people of the moon we’re awaiting Penny to take them to the open apartments they were invited to occupy. The warrior had embraced Della tightly, pulling away after a moment. “I want to offer condolences for your loss as well.”

Della’s smile dropped and she titled her head to the side. “My loss? What are you talking about?”

“I know it’s hard to talk about it now, but...I will listen if you would like me to. It’s the least I can do for you after what my people and I have done.” She pulled away with a curt nod.

The duck looked at her in continued confusion. “Whatever you’re talking about, weirdo.”

“This...’weirdo’...is that how you process grief?”

“Uhhhh...I guess?”

“Well then, I hope you recover well, weirdo.” With that, Penny turned to her people, heading towards town with her head held high, leaving a very lost Della behind. Later on, the pilot would realize what a fool she had been.  
*

The week after the people of the moon were sent off to their new living quarters paid surprisingly by Scoorge McDuck, things began to return to normal. Or at least as normal as Duckburg could get with an entire colony amongst their people. They were all certain that the government or some type of organization was going to show up one of these days in response to that event, but they never did. Ms. Beakley shrugged mysteriously when they pondered aloud about it, speaking in a low tone. “Maybe another organization has already taken care of it...”

None of them were sure what that meant, but afterwards Uncle Scrooge told them as well that wasn’t a worry anymore for them. They weren’t sure how he was so confident in that knowledge, but he kept his mouth zipped shut no matter how hard they pushed the subject. They finally decided to move on from that. By this point two weeks had passed and things were slowly coming together. Until something obvious was noticed.

“How come Uncle Donald isn’t back yet?” Huey asked at dinner one day, looking concerned as he voiced the thought in his great-uncle’s direction.

“Well, he’s still on the cruise, lad.” Scrooge answered, flipping to the next page of the newspaper.

“Ummm, it’s been a month and a half now.” Huey answered immediately.

Scrooge lowered the newspaper, frowning. “Noooo, it’s...”

Louie was counting on his fingers, mumbling to himself in an attempt to confirm said theory. His eyes widened and seemed to come to the same conclusion the other two were beginning to get to. Dewey suddenly pounded his hands onto the dining room table, screaming in realization. “Oh my god!”

Della had been frozen in place, lunch forgotten, eyes wide as she realized they hadn’t seen him since she had returned. Louie pulled his hoodie over his head, shaking as Dewey yelled. Huey started to talk a million miles an hour, unable to slow down enough for them to understand. A moment later, Scrooge bellowed into the dining room. “QUIET!”

Everyone paused in their panic, staring at the head of the table. A moment later, Ms. Beakley peaked her head into the dining room. “Is something the matter?”

“Donald is missing.” Della finally breathed out, as the women partly in the room raised an eyebrow at the panic filled room.

“It would seem so.” Scrooge replied. His eyebrows furrowed as he folded up the newspaper.

Ms. Beakley stepped into the room, staring at the anxious faces surrounding her at the dining table. “Andddd, does anyone have an idea as where he would be?”

“Well, uh...the the last time we saw him he was heading out for the cruise. Launchpad said he dropped him off at the bus stop.”

“Then, why don’t we start from there. Mr. McDuck, do you have the cruise line’s phone number?”

“Well, no. I can go find out what it is though.”

“That would be a grand idea,” She turned to boys, whom had finally calmed down a bit by this point. “And boys, when was the last time you heard from your uncle?”

“Actually, Ms. Beakley, I was the last one to hear from him. He called from a number that I didn’t recognize and said he was going to be back in a month.” Scrooge explained to her, pulling out his phone to scroll through the numbers.

“It would probably be wise if you were to call that number back then.”

Scrooge pressed the phone number from that day awhile back that Donald had called him from, listening to the dial tone. Della frowned, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t even notice he hadn’t returned. I haven’t seen him for almost eleven years!”

Dewey was beside her chair in an instant, grabbing her hand reassuringly. “Don’t feel bad, Mom! None of us did.”

“Well, I actually did fir-“ Huey began, only for Dewey to elbow him in the ribs. “Ow! Uh, I mean, that’s alright, Mom. None of us did either.”

Della smiled briefly at the boy’s comfort. Scrooge scowled, hanging up his phone with a pained look. “It was just a bunch of static! Couldn’t hear a bloody thing!”

“Well, that’s certainly odd. Perhaps you should call the cruise line as the next step.” Ms. Beakley mused, frowning at what was spoken.

Scrooge grumbled to himself as he looked through his phone. “I’m sure the lad just decided to extend his vacation. He’s been a wee bit stressed lately.”

“Has anyone even told him that I’m back?” Della questioned, frowning at Scrooge’s carelessness. 

“I tried to in my postcard, but it was just sent back.” Huey answered.

“What? Why was it returned?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed it would be difficult to get since he’s in the middle of the ocean. He doesn’t have his phone out there, so I just assumed that he would call one of us when he had the chance. Uncle Scrooge said he did, so I wasn’t too worried, but now I kinda am.” Huey confessed, fiddling with his hands.

“Oh, Uncle Donald is probably fine...right, Mom?” Dewey looked to her and she found herself gulping in fear at the open expression she was given. It was at moments like these that she wasn’t quite sure what a good response to a child would be.

“What do you mean he never showed up?!” Scrooge yelled into the phone. “He was in a bus heading to the port you were docked at!”

Della felt fear swell up in her chest at the words. Donald had been gone for a month and half and hadn’t even made it to the cruise ship. She turned to Louie, who had taken to rocking and forth in his chair, face hidden by his hoodie. She could hear the worried whimpers he released, unsure on how to comfort him. Huey was mumbling to himself, flipping through his Woodchuck hand guide. Dewey was chewing on his finger nails, shaking slightly. 

For the first time since Della returned home, she left her children in a distressed state without comforting them.  
*

As time passed, Della found herself becoming distant from her family, worried constantly about her missing brother. She had been so focused on bonding with her children, she realized she hadn’t taken the time to allow herself to accumulate to her new environment. That’s when she started to realize maybe she wasn’t doing as well as she thought.

As Scrooge hired detective after detective to look for leads in the disappearance, she became more and more tense. It had only been another month since they had all noticed the disappearance and everyone was on edge. Scrooge seemed to be employing the same tactic of avoiding his family, clearly running himself ragged each time any of them did see them. Was this how he as when she was missing?

Her young boys were now in junior high, gone most the day, and when they did come home she couldn’t find it in herself to actually interact with them. She had forgotten their uncle, the man who raised them, and felt as though she had been terrible to do so. How could they even stand to look at her?

She tried to keep herself quiet when she would wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming about Donald’s body being found in a gutter on the streets.

It came to a point one day, when Penny had knocked upon their door. Della needed someone to confide in that wasn’t her family or she feared she might lose her mind. The pilot wasn’t sure how many dreams about Donald being dead she could take.

Duckworth had predictably been the first one to arrive there, while Della popped into the entry way as she was called. The butler disappeared into the ceiling as Della smiled wearily at her friend. Penny appeared concerned at her clearly exhausted state she presented. “Della, you don’t appear well.”

Della pulled her into a hug, visibly shaking as she did so. “I-I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve needed a friend.”

She was startled by the tears she felt on her shoulder. She had came to visit her friend, concerned on how the loss of her brother was being taken and Penny now wished she had come to visit sooner. “Oh, Della...your...your brother was the bravest man I have ever had the honor of meeting.”

Her friend tensed up in their embrace, suddenly pulling away with a start. Her eyes were wide, tears streaming down her face. “Why...why are you saying that?”

Penny frowned at her reaction, speaking slowly. “Because of his sacrifice for your planet.”

“W-What?”

“Did...did you receive his warning message?” 

“A warning? No, what are you talking about? He’s been missing for almost three months now!”

The warrior stared at her in shock. “You don’t know.”

“K-Know what?”

“He was...he was on the moon and he...he tried to warn you of the invasion and I tried...I tried to help him and he got in one of our prototypes....Della, oh, Della. I’ve seen the footage, no one could have survived being in one of them...”

Della’s eyes mirrored the realization she had inside to Penny and she released a scream of anguish, falling to her knees.  
*

As time passed on, long after the family collapsing in on itself, the pent up frustrations being released at the funeral, Scrooge had finally come to his senses that Donald really was gone. It had been a trying year for them all, the triplets especially having to accept the fact that the duck who raised them was most certainly dead.

Scrooge had lasted longer than all of them, the money bin’s savings once again beginning to dwindle. Della knew this couldn’t continue on, as it was beginning to affect the entire family. She had been the one to intervene this time however, finally convincing the duck that there was no chance he had survived. “But...Della, you did, so surely...”

“Uncle Scrooge, Penny said that it would have burnt up on rentry.” That was the first time she had spoke the words out loud and she realized she didn’t truly accept it until this moment as well. She witnessed him sob, burying his face into her shoulder as he finally accepted Donald’s fate.

The boys had cried themselves hoarse too many times, obviously shaken up by losing one of the people they cared most about. Even Webby was visibly distraught by the loss. It seemed that many had suffered over Donald Duck.

Della really did try her best to pull herself together, but she found it increasingly difficult to do so. All the years she had spent on the moon, she had one goal she constantly strived towards. She needed to get home to her family. The pilot had sworn she would do it no matter the costs and finally had done so. But, now she found herself aimless.

Della tried to find a job since nearly the beginning, knowing she needed to do something to provide income for her children in between their adventures. It had been hard before, since she wasn’t very good at doing normal everyday activities that it seemed other people were capable off. Now that she was grieving over the loss of her brother it seemed near impossible that she would be able to do so.

She was running herself ragged with adventures that clearly everyone was insisting on going on to distract themselves. She barely slept at night and always insisted she was fine each time her Uncle asked about how she felt when it was clear she wasn’t well. The bags underneath her eyes seemed to stand as a constant reminder: you forgot about your brother and now you must be tormented at every turn by his memory.

The day Huey had come to her for help, wasn’t a good one. She had failed another interview-the first in over a month-and she hadn’t slept a wink last night. When her son had come running into her room that night though, Della had to fight the urge to yell at him for being so noisy. She halted herself when she realized his face was clearly panicked.

“Huey? Sweetie, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s Louie! Something’s wrong!” He cried, wringing his hands anxiously, before running back out of the room.

She didn’t hesitate to go after him, her own personal problems thrust to the side in order to go after her son. When she burst into the boy’s room, she expected screaming, chaos, some type of medical emergency. Della was greeted with a fairly calm room though. 

Dewey sat on the bottom bunk, next to a bundle underneath a blanket. He was resting his hand onto of the bundle-Louie-while Huey hovered nearby, clearly distressed. As she approached, she was startled to see tears in Dewey’s eyes. He looked up at her with a pained expression, that tugged at her heartstrings. “What’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know!” Dewey whimpered back at her.

“He’s not responding to us at all! He’s been lying there all day!” Huey pitched in, voice sped up by his fear.

“Louie? Baby, what’s wrong?” She grabbed at his shoulder, shaking him gently. He didn’t respond and she carefully peeled back the blanket that covered him. “Baby?”

He was staring at the wall blankly, as though he couldn’t hear a word she was saying. She immediately knew something bad was happening to her baby boy. “Louie, please, you’re scaring me.”

“What’s wrong with him, Mom?” Dewey’s face has crumpled and he was openly crying.

“I’m going to get Uncle Scrooge!” Huey sprinted from the room.

“I’m not sure, honey....” She responded, before delicately picking up her unresponsive son, cradling him in her arms. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes flickered, staring up at her face finally. She thought he couldn’t respond, but now she believed he didn’t want to. Dewey leaned towards Louie, sobbing now. “L-Louie, what’s wrong?” 

His brother finally shrugged, before burying his face into his mother’s jacket. A moment later they heard him begin to weep, Louie’s whole frame shaking violently as he did so. Della shushed him, rocking back and forth. She squeezed her eyes shut, worried about her son.  
*

After being taken to the emergency room, the doctors gave him a clean bill of health, though they did suggest that he should eat more. Louie had been uncharacteristically apologetic the entire time he was there. It seemed as though he thought he were a burden to his family. The doctor told Della and Scrooge when they were alone with the professional in a quiet voice that perhaps Louie should see a therapist.

The very next day they did just that. Della had decided that perhaps taking him alone would be best, despite the protests from the rest of the family. Louie insisted he didn’t need to go in the first place, but she knew that was wrong. It seemed as though pretending to be alright ran in the family. Which was how she found herself Tuesday morning, taking Louie to a specialist’s office when he should have been in school.

When the therapist had called the pair into the room, the man greeted them, and introduced himself. Louie hesitantly replied, clearly anxious about the whole exchange. Della promised him everything would be fine. “It’s going to be ok...do you want me to stay?”

He seemed to be debating it, eyebrows furrowed together, before he responded with a ‘no’. Watching the therapist closing the door, shutting her out was probably the hardest thing she had ever done.

By the time an hour had passed, the therapist had let her son back out of the room, and asked to speak to her alone. She smiled at her son, watching his frightened young face. The therapist turned to him briefly, speaking gently. “Just a reminder, Louie, I won’t be able to tell exact details to your mother, but I do have to speak about our next course of action.”

He nodded rapidly and Della gulped down the angry feeling at the words. She couldn’t do anything about that unfortunately. When she had finally been brought into the room, the doctor smiled at her pleasantly, as though they weren’t talking about her son’s emotional state. “Ms. Duck-“

“Please, just call me Della.”

“Della, I just have to remind you that I am not allowed to disclose exact details about what Llewellyn spoke to me about, unless he was a danger to himself. I can assure you he is most definitely not.”

Della felt some of the tension leave her body. “That’s...that’s good...what’s wrong with him though?”

“I’m going to be frank: your son is not mentally well at the moment. I believe Llewellyn has depression, mostly stemming from what happened to your brother recently.”

“What? Depression?”

“Yes. Not to be confused with being depressed though.”

“There’s a difference?”

“There is. Being depressed is often linked up with an exact event, such as a death of a loved one. Having depression is typically a lifetime disease that unfortunately plagues the mind. While I’m not allowed to exactly disclose what was told to me, I can tell you right now this was definitely something he had before the event. Llewellyn told me certain details that has suggested this to me. I’m still not going to officially have that be my diagnosis this early on, I believe your son should continue our sessions.”

She frowned. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, give him some medicine that will make him better? I know a lot of depressed people so that.”

“There is no cure all to depression, Della. While medicine can achieve hormonal balance for patients, it is definitely not able to completely heal that. It’s a mental illness and typically they are there for life. Again, I’m not completely certain he has it yet, so this might not be a worry, but I wanted to disclose this just so you would be prepared in the event that he did have it.”

The pilot sat back, taking in the information as she thought about this. The therapist narrowed his eyes, clearing his thoart. “Might I make a suggestion?”

“What?”

“I believe it would be wise if your family would attend a few therapy sessions together. Families that share similar grief from an event tend to heal better together with the assistance of a professional to sort out their emotions.”

She scoffed. “Therapy? Us? I don’t even think I could convince my Uncle to get into the same room as you. He’s a bit skeptical about this time of stuff.”

“It seems like you are as well.”

Della stared at him, before rubbing her hand across her eyes. “Ok, I might be a little bit. But, therapy has never been the McDuck way. I don’t know anyone in our family line that has done it.”

“Well, maybe this could be a new McDuck tradition. Therapy can be good for your mental health. I have all types of families that have visited with me and most of them have come out better after being openly able to communicate with their family.”

Della seemed to be pondering this, biting her lip. The therapist was studying her and she felt as though she were being judged. “What? Do you have something else to say?”

“Your son knows about your nightmares,” She was surprised, unaware that he did. “While I can’t force you attend therapy, I feel as thought it would benefit you as well.”

The pilot felt uncomfortable as the subject was pointed in her direction, squirming in discomfort in the seat. “I, uh, I’ll think about it...”  
*

“Therapy? Like Uncle Donald?” Dewey asked her when she had brought up the subject at breakfast one morning.

She nearly spat out her coffee at the words, cup sloshing her drink as she slammed it down. “Since when did Donald go to therapy?!”

“Since about ten years ago, lass,” Scrooge responded, watching her carefully. “It actually did him a lot of good from what I saw.”

“And you were okay with him doing that? You? Scrooge McDuck, the man that once said that psychologists were just a bunch of nutcases?”

Della and Dewey stared at him, while he appeared quite flustered. “Well, maybe I was...”

They leaned forward expectedly for his next words. He refused to make eye contact as he mumbled. “...I was wrong...”

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” She egged him on, watching him become unhinged a bit.

“I was wrong!” He spoke up, crossing his arms across his chest. “There! Are you happy?!”

“I am!” The young duck raised his hand, sticking out his tongue when he received a glare from the older duck.

“What was Donald going to therapy for though?”

“His anger, obviously.” Dewey replied to her, his voice sassy.

“Oh, hush!” She waved her hand at her son and then looked back at Scrooge. “Was that it though? Anything else?”

“How would I know, Della? I wasn’t allowed to hear anything, not that Donald wanted to tell me any details.”

She tried not to let it hurt how she knew she would never find out why now. “Wellll...what do you think about all of us doing it?”

“I’ll think about it.” Was the dismissive response, as he used his newspaper to hide his face once more.

“Mom, I’m interested!” 

Thank god at least someone was onboard. Now, she just had to convince the other two to allow a group therapy session. Della found a smirk spread across her lips as she thought of an idea, one she knew Scrooge couldn’t resist. “Uncle Scrooge...I have a wager for you.”

Scrooge lowered the newspaper slightly, eyes peering over. “Oh?”

“If I can convince Huey and Louie to both go to family therapy too, you have to go to them also.”

Scrooge seemed to be thinking about it, just as she had. She knew it would easy to get Huey onboard, but the challenge would be Louie. He was the one clearly affected by this the most. Not to mention she was never able to completely understand her son. She loved him to pieces and tried to, but he seemed to be so secretive all the time. When she had asked the other two, they claimed he had been always been like that. Della just couldn’t understand why, even after months together.

“...one session, but only if you can convince Louie to let this happen.” He finally decided, returning to his reading with a nod.  
*

In the end it had been easier than expected to convince Louie to allow it, though he seemed pretty hesitant about the answer he had given. She had done it though. Or more accurately her other children had. It seemed as though they knew all the right words to say. When she had told Scrooge about what had happened, she found herself laughing hard enough that she was wheezing by the end of it because of the look on his face. While it rarely seemed to happen, she had beat Scrooge in a bet.

And so, in the end they had all ended up in the therapist’s session together, the very same one that Louie had been seeing once a week. They had all tensely listened to the therapist introduce himself to everyone and then he flipped open his notebook writing a quick note inside. A moment later, he looked at Scrooge. “Mr. McDuck, I believe I should start with you. You are the head of the household, are you not?”

His arms were crossed over his chest, a clear sign he was closed off. He responded though, but it wasn’t much. “Aye, that I am.”

“And you raised both Della and Donald.”

“Aye.”

“Would you say that you were successful in doing so?”

He frowned. “What are you trying to imply?”

Della frowned, rolling her eyes, while the boys watched on in anticipation. “I’m not implying anything, I just thought gaining background on your relationship with your niece and nephew would be helpful for me to understand your relation with them.”

“Well, I believe I did!”

The therapist turned to Della, nodding at her. “Would you agree, Della?”

She was startled by the question. “Uhhh, yeah, I guess so.”

“And what would you say about your brother?”

“I don’t know? I think so, but I’m not him.”

“I’m sure that Donald would say the same thing! May we move on!” Scrooge groused.

The therapist stared at him for a moment, before speaking. “Mr. McDuck, in order for a successful therapy session to happen, you must cooperate with me. Therapy is a two way street.”

“This is seems like a waste of my money, if you ask me.”

“If you find that to be so, you may end contact with me at anytime. I’m not quite certain your family is on the same page though.”

“Uncle Scrooge, we definitely all want this.”

Huey nodded and Dewey spoke up. “I definitely do.”

“What about Louie? He clearly doesn’t want to do this!” Scrooge waved his hand in his direction, the boy shrinking down slightly at the sudden attention.

“Louie, is that true?” The therapist asked.

Louie shrugged. “Uhhh...I mean I want to...but, it’s kinda weird isn’t it? Like is us all sharing our problems going to fix anything?”

“I believe it could, if everyone decided to participate. Since it’s clearly difficult for me to direct this session, maybe we could have someone decide to pick a topic that they’re comfortable speaking about.”

There was an awkward pause, with all of the family not speaking. Della gulped, looking around at the others, before bravely blurting out for the room to hear. “I was stuck on the moon alone for ten years.”

They all stared at her with wide eyes. The therapist nodded at her statement. “Louie mentioned you were gone for most of his life. Were you an astronaut?”

“Ummm, no...I was just...a pilot that had big dreams.”

“Would you be comfortable discussing how you ended up there?”

Della felt a cold sweat break out on her skin as the others stared at her, clearly interested in her story. She gulped. “Um, Uncle Scrooge built the ship for me...it was supposed to be a surprise, but I noticed and I, uh...decided to get into it....and, uh, I, uh...”

“Della, before you proceed, I would like to introduce something to everyone,” He stood up, heading over to the bookshelf behind his desk to pull out a book. He flipped through it, before presenting a chart to them.

“What’s that?” Huey curiously asked.

“It’s a mental distress chart. It is on a scale of 1-10, that describes how you are feeling at the moment. I will periodically ask each of you when you’re speaking about difficult subjects how you are at the moment. If any of you say 7 or above we will immediately stop speaking about the subject. Is that alright?”

He received confirmations, before he readdressed Della about the story. “Della, right now when you’re trying to describe this, what number are you at?”

“...an 8.” She responded after a moment, finding her hands trembling.

Scrooge appeared surprised by her number and the therapist nodded. “I believe we should speak about something else at the moment then. Any volunteers?”

Huey raised his hand right away, much to the surprise of the others. “Uhhhh...I’m kinda having a hard time with my grades, when I keep thinking about my Uncle Donald all the time.”

“Really, sweetie?” Della asked, concerned.

Huey nodded, biting his lip as the therapist answered. “Thank you for sharing that with your family, Huey. That’s perfectly normal to struggle when you’ve lost a loved one. Sometimes it consumes your every waking moment when you keep thinking about how much you miss this.”

“I...I know that, but sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it and then I kinda get...”

“Worked up?”

“Yes. It’s like the more I try to stop thinking about it, more I keep thinking about it.”

“That’s an intrusive thought. Those can pretty hard to push away. We can definitely discuss that in further detail at a later time. I believe by the end of this session everyone in the family should share something though. Who else would like to speak?”

Dewey rocked back and forth in his chair, before rapidly blurting. “I think I like guys!”

Della’s eyes widened at the words, as did Scrooge’s. The only one that didn’t seem too surprised was Huey. “Guys, lad?”

Dewey regretted the words immediately, hands covering his mouth. The therapist smiled at him though. “Thank you for sharing that Dewey. I’m sure your family supports that.”

Scrooge appeared guiltily, before looking at his grand-nephew to speak. “I, uh, don’t have a problem with that, lad, I was just surprised.”

Dewey seemed to relax slightly at the words, before he continued. “Uhhh, it’s not just guys though...I think I like girls to.”

“That’s perfectly alright as well. Sexuality is fluid for many people. While I’m not going to pressure you to identify it, I do know that giving it a name can be helpful. Let me know if you would like to discuss that it greater detail.”

“Louie, how about you? What would you like to share with your family?”

Louie slouched down in his seat, before speaking quietly. “I’ve been pretty depressed since Uncle Donald went missing.”

None of them seemed surprised, nodding somberly at their family member. Scrooge suddenly felt all eyes on him, avoiding eye contact as he was addressed next. “Mr. McDuck, would you like to share anything? It doesn’t have to be significant.”

“...I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle.”  
*

By the end of the session, the general consensus was for them all to attend together again. None of them spoke again the entire car ride back home, thigh Launchpad talked up a storm as usual. When they were dropped off at the manor, the boys headed up to their rooms, leaving behind Della and Scrooge.

In the entry way, Scrooge spoke to her. “I think...I think those sessions are good for you and the boys.”

“...I think they might be, too...” She stared at her uncle, watching his weary eyes. “I think that...they would be good for you, too....I know you said you would only go to one, but I think it would help if you went to more.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“We all do,” She firmly replied, before blurting out the next half. “I can’t sleep.”

“...I noticed.”

“I know; everyone has. Huey keeps asking me what’s wrong and I don’t know how to tell him that I keep thinking about Donald.”

“...I’ve been...having a hard time sleeping as well.” Scrooge finally confessed, staring down at the floor. Della found a slight smile on her face at the confession. While it wasn’t much, the first step had been done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone in the United States is having a great Thanksgiving and are appreciating all the good in their lives. I also hope that you are all doing what you personally can do to support the Natives of your country and righting the wrongs performed by unfavorable settlers. While I do adknowledge Thanksgiving as a time of peace and family, I just hope everyone realizes that our actions truly do affect others and how you can take some time to treat others with kindness. On the note of the holidays, this story is definitely family centric. While Donald is one of the main characters, he won’t be the single primary focus. This is about how the event of being stuck on the island has affected everyone in the McDuck/Duck family. Also, I had a really hard time writing Scrooge, and I’m sorry if he seemed out of character. I’m not very good at it, but I hope I did him justice. Feedback and kudos are definitely appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I-I just want to say I love all of you boys and I know if Donald were here, he would be so proud of you all.”

Scrooge thought about the funeral.

It was a burial at sea as per custom for a member in that branch of military service to have. He had thought back to the very day it had happened, how the cold winter air in January had felt to them all. It had began to lightly snow that morning, making all of the ducks bundle up in response to the chill. It had felt as though the weather was mourning his nephew, just as they were.

Scrooge had contacted the Navy when the decision was made and they had assured him it would be all taken care of. They had in fact and the entire event was surprisingly free of charge. He had the money, but they insisted on covering it all for the duty Donald performed for the country. The older duck wasn’t even certain what level of service warranted that, but he wasn’t allowed to know. Just as Donald told him years ago, it was classified from the general public, including family. 

When the family had arrived at the funeral many had already been there. While Donald had been pretty private about his personal life, it quickly became clear just how many friends he truly had. The older duck noticed a handful of Navy men in uniform and felt as though he couldn’t speak to them. In fact, he felt as though he couldn’t speak to most of the strangers surrounding them.

When Goofy Goof had finally approached him, he had seen the first familiar face of the night. The dog had gone to same high school as his nephew years ago. The last time he had seen him was during the graduation ceremony he attended for Donald, along with his nephew’s closet school friends. Scrooge was surprised that the triplets regoized him though. Dewey shrugged, explaining to him as though it were unimportant. “Uncle Goofy babysat us a few times. Plus, his son goes to the same school as us.”

Scrooge wasn’t aware that Donald had kept in contact with him for years, to the point that the teenagers would call him “Uncle Goofy”. At some point later on, he swore he saw Mickey and Minnie, two of he first friends Donald had brought home for a play date when he was a child. They didn’t approach him and was glad they didn’t. Scrooge was certain he would had fallen apart before the ceremony had even begun.

He refused to speak to anyone else though, as Della left with the triplets to go speak to others. They spoke to other familiar people, some of his employees and old friends of them all. He was honestly surprised none of his enemies interrupted and he was certain he had a theory about as to why when Beakley arrived late to the service. 

That night Scrooge had realized that he didn’t know Donald Duck as much as he thought he did. Donald had clearly had different phases in his life that Scrooge wasn’t a part of. He had to guess that including the Navy members that there was at least a hundred people attending.

When the ceremony had started, he had finally noticed Panchito and Jose were the only ones that hadn’t attended. He didn’t know why and felt bitter at the knowledge that they didn’t even bother to join them. It seemed that the Caballeros had been good friends, yet they were nowhere in sight. When he decided to push away those unwanted thoughts, he heard one of the Naval officers cry out. “All hands bury the dead.”

Della had begun to cry in earnest as they had folded up the American flag, trying to quiet her loud weeping at the sight. The triplets beside her were more quiet, but clearly as distraught as she was. One of the officers appeared grim, as he saluted the flag before him. He looked up from it, making direct eye contact with Scrooge. The older duck knew what came next.

Scrooge stood on shaking legs, going forward to meet the Navy man. He raised his shaking hands forward, as the folded up flag was presented to him. He held onto it, while the the officer held on as well. He received a whisper of an answer on who this animal was. “I’m not allowed to disclose details, but if it wasn’t for your nephew I wouldn’t be alive. My daughter would have had to grow up without her father and thanks to Donald I was able to go home to her.”

Scrooge allowed silent tears to roll down his cheeks at the words and could only find it in himself to nod at the words. The officer let go of the flag, stepping away. A moment later, the ones in uniform turned to the sea, saluting. He wasn’t sure which individual it was, but he heard a long mournful bugle be played out for Donald by one of the officers. Sometimes, in his dreams he still heard that bugle play, the sounds of the waves slamming against the pier.  
*

“I spent 756 days looking for Della, before...before the board members made me stop.” Scrooge announced to his family, months after their first therapy session. 

It had been a grueling year up until that point, everyone in their family struggling to overcome the grief. Webby had even attended a few sessions, explaining how she had grown to care for Donald a great deal. Scrooge thought it was good for her to be involved, as she was definitely part of the family. In the process, he learned more about his bonus niece, and her bond with him was strengthened.

Of course, it had taken a lot of time for everyone to fully open up, the older duck especially. He had gone for so long relying on himself that it had felt painfully foreign at first to reveal some of what was hurting him. Scrooge didn’t have any regrets about allowing his family to find out more about him and he hadn’t felt as loved by his family as much as he had in the past year.

“And, why did they make you stop?” The therapist asked, turning his thoughts back to what he had just confessed.

“Because...I was putting every dime I had into it,” Della’s eyes were full of tears at the words, clutching the tissue box she had been handed earlier. “And, because I was neglecting my business duties.”

“What’s your number currently at, Scrooge?”

“A 5.”

“That’s less than last time, very good. Does anyone have anything to say?”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I made you like that.” 

Della blew her nose, the older duck offering her a smile. “It’s alright, Della...I would do it again in a heart beat, if it would come to it.”

“Scrooge? Remember what I said earlier?” The therapist reminded him.

“Er, right...while I did do that at the time and do not regret any of it, I don’t believe I should ever do that again if you were to become lost to space, again.”

Della just sobbed harder at the words, as Huey held her hand, patting it gently. The red hatted teenager looked to his uncle. “I think Mom is trying to say thank you.”

Della nodded at the words, blubbering slightly. After a minute or two of silence, she had begun to calm down, and the therapist found it the right moment to speak. “Huey, would you like to speak about how your diversions are helping you now?”

“Uh, yes. I’ve been meditating when I start to think too many sad things about Uncle Donald, when I need to be focusing on school instead. I’ve been clearing my mind like you taught me how to. Sometimes I can’t help thinking about him, but most of the time it helps. When I get home, I let myself have some time to think those things that I couldn’t earlier.”

“What is your number?”

“3.”

“I’m glad that there’s been a clear improvement for you.”

“Louie? You told me last week you were able to shower at least every other day. Is that still a consistent thing?”

“Yeah, it has been.”

“I’m glad you’re able to have the energy to keep yourself clean more than before. You remember what to do if you can’t find the motivation to do so?”

“Use the wet wipes at the very least.”

“Exactly! It’s also important that you don’t forget to tell your family you’re struggling with that as well, if it starts happening again. Anything you would like to say to your family?”

Louie sniffled and nodded. “You guys, thank you for helping me so much. I...I don’t know what I would do without you all.”

Della found herself in tears again at the words. Before she hardly shed a single tear and now it seemed like she was always sobbing in the sessions they were having. It was almost as if the years spent alone on the moon were finally coming out through them. She shakily raised her hand, tears swimming in her eyes.

“Yes, Della?”

“I-I just want to say I love all of you boys and I know if Donald were here, he would be so proud of you all.”

It was now their turn to begin crying, Della passing around the tissue box to triplets to share. They all huddled up together in a shared embrace, allowing themselves to release their emotions. The therapist nodded at them in what was clearly approvement. Della looked up from her children at Scrooge. “Come here, Uncle Scrooge.”

The older duck found his feet unwillingly heading towards the others, joining their embrace. He felt a warmth in his heart at the thought of his family wanting him to join this emotional moment. He squeezed them tightly, knowing that they were finally healing.  
*

There of course were bad days though.

Huey sometimes couldn’t stop thinking about all of the worse things that had possibly happened to Donald. He would be in class, in the middle of a quiz, when his mind would begin to start wandering. He would imagine all types of scenarios, where his uncle was dead. He thought of so many dark outcomes that he would find himself stressed out to the point where he would go hide in the bathroom until the next period. Every time that happened, his mother would have to intervene with a note from the therapist about what would happen so he could retake the quiz.

Sometimes Louie would be unresponsive in the mornings, so emotionally weak that he couldn’t move a muscle. Scrooge would have to call the school, informing them that the teenager couldn’t come in that day. His brothers would arrive home with his schoolwork to complete when he had his energy back again each time that it happened. Other times he would be so fired up by something so small, that he would become aggressive at every turn. Later, when he would finish with his depressive episodes, he would ask for forgiveness. Louie would receive it each time and he tried to do better next time and keep being patient with himself.

Sometimes Dewey would disappear for hours at a time, being found after frantic searching at the most random locations. He would try to be on his own to think about his uncle and refused to be around others when he did so. The almost 13-year-old would have the habit of not informing anyone where he was heading off to. Dewey would always apologize when he returned and try to remember next time to tell someone.

Sometimes, they would catch Scrooge speaking on the phone in a hushed voice, trying to secretly hire another detective to search for Donald. Those moments would either end with him being caught and stopped or on better days asking Della to help distract him from doing so.

Several nights found Della waking from nightmares of her time alone on the moon and of her missing twin. She would sob loud enough for others to hear her, making them crowd into her room to comfort the terrified pilot. 

Though they had bad moments in their lives, they always had each other to rely on.  
*

By time the year was over, Della felt as though she had finally accepted her time on the moon and that she could begin to move on from the ten years she had spent there. Huey and Dewey no longer needed the sessions either. While they were clearly still sad about Donald, they knew all would be fine. After all, they had been given the tools to cope, and now they were using them all on their own.

Louie continued to attend them though, finally trying out medication in order to help rebalance his mental health when it became clear he needed extra assistance. They were shocked however when Scrooge had announced that he would keep going as well. Della knew that he must of realized that his obsession to keep searching wasn’t healthy. 

She suspected there were other secrets Scrooge had though, ones he would never reveal to them under any circumstances. The pilot was glad that at the very least, he was choosing to tell someone those burdens. 

While the family could never completely move on from the death of one of their loved ones, they needed to continue on with their lives, which is exactly what they all did. The boys had entered the 8th grade and Webby finally joined them at the same school, the year below them. Launchpad continued his work for Scrooge part time, while the other half he spent with Darkwing Duck in St. Carnad. The McDuck family continued on with their adventures. The moon people settled into their daily lives, constantly in contact with Della, attempting to make amends with what they had done to her twin.

Just when they had finally began to feel better than ever, Storkules had appeared.  
*

The last Della had heard of Storkules was that he had restarted the Earth’s rotation and had been in trouble with his father for doing so. Selene kept in constant contact with her, informing them of all of these events. One day however, a month after it had been discovered Donald was missing, Storkules left on his own to search for his close friend. Selene said she didn’t hear from him for months, which was normal for demigods, so there was no cause for panic.

Except, in the middle of the night Della had woken to Storkules hovering over her bed, whispering her name. “Friend Della...friend Della.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing a fist blindly out, only for it to be caught but the demigod. A few moments later, the triplets burst into the room, assuming battle poses to fight off whatever was attacking their mother. They all stared at one another, before relaxing as they realized who had broken into the mansion. “What the hell, Storkules? You gave me a heart attack!”

“I did not wish to startle you, but I come bearing news.”

The light was suddenly flicked on, an exhausted Scrooge entering the room in ruffled pajamas. He yawned as he studied the scene, frowning at the obvious demigod occupying the room. “What in dismal downs is going on here?

“Storkules broke into our house and scared Mom.” Dewey replied and pointed at the stork.

“And is there a reason why he did that?” 

“There is! After months of searching high and low, I have found a trail!” Strokules bellowed, hand clenching into a fist. From the open window he had entered through, there was the rumble of thunder, a bright light flashing across the sky.

“A trail to...?” Huey prompted as he frowned at the demigod.

“Donald Duck!” Was the proud answer received.

Louie groaned at the words, sitting down on the ground, burying his face into his knees. “Uncle Donald is dead.”

The mood in the room became somber as the words were bluntly stated and Storkules stared in shock at Louie. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean that he died coming back from the moon!” Louie continued, voice muffled.

“Aye, he did.” Scrooge agreed, shaking his head sadly.

“Then, how do you explain this fine piece of gold?” The stork raised a piece of crushed metal to his audience.

Della gasped at the sight of it, trembling hands covering her mouth. “W-Where did you find that?”

“Laid upon one of the Hawaiian isles. I have found many a piece on the isles west of our location. It is a piece of foreign material, not of our planet.”

“S-Storkules, that’s just derby from his crash!” Huey cried, shaking visibly at the sight of it. “That doesn’t mean anything! Uncle Donald couldn’t have survived the crash!”

“Except the fact is that he’s a McDuck and we McDucks never give up,” Scrooge stepped forward, attracting their attention, as he reaching out for the metal. His eyes were shining with newfound hope.

Storkules gladly allowed him to take it, watching with pleading eyes. Della shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes. “Uncle Scrooge, there’s no way. I barely survived the impact when I crashed on the moon!”

“Lass, I didn’t give up on you for years. In fact, I didn’t want to until I was forced, as there were no other options. This though? This is a sign that he still might be out there. And, I believe we can do better than what we have for Donald.” 

After a moment, Dewey nodded at his great-uncle, reaching out to hold the golden derby as well. “I’m in.”

Huey seemed to be weighting the pros and cons, before reaching out as well. “Me too.”

The brothers looked to Louie, who stared at them from his spot on the ground. He appeared to be conflicted, quite miserable at the attention he was given. He sniffled, shaking his head. “I-I can’t do this, again.”

He reburied his face. Della slid out of bed, squatting next to him, as she wrapped herself around her son. She looked up at the disappointed faces of her other children. Scrooge stared at her with pleading eyes. She then said what pained her heart to do so. “I don’t think I can either. Donald isn’t out there. I can’t keep believing he’s going to come back when I know he isn’t. The therapist says it isn’t healthy to linger on like that.”

Scrooge’s face became blank at the words, before he looked to Storkules. He couldn’t bear to look at her a moment longer. The Della she had once been was gone. The demigod smiled at them, eyes full of hope. “Thank you, friend Scrooge, for you belief.”

Scrooge nodded, slamming down the bottom of his cane on the floor. “Well, what are you waiting for then? Let’s get a move on!”  
*

The Sunchaser lifted off into the sky, Scrooge the pilot on the grand adventure to hopefully discover where Donald Duck had been for over a year now. Usually Launchpad or Della would have been the ones to fly them out there, but as one refused and the other hadn’t answered his phone when called, Scrooge had been the default.

Huey and Dewey were sat side by side in the plane, watching Storkules speak to Scrooge, informing him of the islands he had throughly checked for evidence of their uncle. Webby hadn’t been able to come with them, as Ms. Beakley seemed to side with the idea that Donald was no longer alive. She thought it was foolish to delude the idea and had heatedly informed Scrooge McDuck this.

Dewey stared down at his phone, finding his fingers hovering over the keyboard it displayed. His hands shook, Louie’s name blurring with the tears in his eyes. He just felt so angry at their brother. He had given up before they even started. “Stupid Louie!” 

As he tossed his phone to the side, Huey looked up from the map he was studying with a frown. “Dewey, I’m upset at him too, but we can’t force him to believe Uncle Donald is still out there.”

“He always just gives up though!” 

“You know the therapist said it was only because of the depression. That’s what he said during the group therapy, remember? ‘It’s not that he gives up, it’s simply that he cannot handle having hope when there’s no evidence to suggest he should have it’.”

“I know, I know! I’m just so mad though! And...and afraid...” The young duck admitted. Huey’s frown deepened reaching out to gently hold his arm. “I’m... what if Uncle Donald is still just as...just as...d-dead as he was yesterday?”

The tears were streaming down his face by this point, his hand covering his bill to muffle the noises. He looked up at the sound of Huey’s tearful voice, finding his brother to be crying as heavily as he was. “T-Then, at least we’ll know what happened to him. Together.”

Meanwhile, up in the front of the airplane, Storkules was giving directions on where he hadn’t checked yet. “I have journeyed far and wide to locate Donald and I believe I have finally come close.”

“Bless me bagpipes, that’s a lot of places you’ve searched!” Scrooge was rarely impressed by the actions of others, but he definitely was at that moment. 

“Oh, it is not as much as you would believe it to be...” He seemed to be thinking hard about something, watching the miles of ocean crossing underneath him.

“...Lad, why are you searching so hard for Donald?” He finally asked. Scrooge loved Donald as if he were his own son and would do anything for him, but he felt as though Storkules had almost been...wracked with as much worry as he had been when he lost Della.

Storkules blinked himself out of the spell he seemed to be under, looking to the older duck. “Donald would do the same if it were I.”

Scrooge wasn’t sure if that were true though and he almost pitied the stork for entertaining the thought. Donald had always seemed to be inconvenienced by the demigod’s presence. “Lad....I think that-“

“I have yet to check there!” He suddenly called out, startling Scrooge at the abrupt noise and the finger pointed directly in front of his bill.

“Uh, well, I suppose we should land there then...Storkules, just how many islands did you say you hadn’t check yet?” He asked, preparing to land the Sunchaser on the tropical island ahead.

“A great many of la-“

“Urm, perhaps an exact number would be helpful?”

”...97.”

Scrooge did a double take at the stork, bewildered. “97?! That’s going to take bloody months! We definitely don’t have all the supplies that would be required for that endeavor and I really doubt the boy’s mother would allow Huey and Dewey to be away that long!”

“We must continue forward, for that is wha-“

“Woah! Is Uncle Donald here?” Dewey had noticed their descent and was staring out the front window at the island they were rapidly approaching. His eyes appeared vaguely red, as if he had been crying earlier.

“Now, lad, I don’t want to get your hopes up...we, er, have a bit of ground to cover, and this was just the first one we happened across....are you alright?”

Dewey nodded with determination. “I will be.”

“How much ground are we talking about?” Huey asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously at his words.

“Errrrrr....” Scrooge refused to make eye contact with the red hatted duck, too afraid to admit how long it would actually take.

“97 isles!”Storkules cried out in triumph.

“WHAT?!” Huey’s eyes were nearly bulging from his head in disbelief. “That would take months! Maybe even years!”

“Years!” Dewey cried out in exasperation, grabbing at his hair. “That’s way too long!”

“Fear not, for I feel we are close to locating the whereabouts of your uncle!” The demigod cheered, as the plane finally landed on the beach. 

Scrooge sighed, pressing the button to open the bay door. The teenagers had gathered their backpacks to explore the island. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew having the boys bring backpacks with emergency supplies might be a wise idea. In the off chance they did find his nephew, they needed to be prepared. 

As they stepped off the plane, Scrooge raised an eyebrow at his surroundings. “Storkules, are you certain this is a place Donald would even be located? I’m fairly certain even if he had been here, by this point the lad would be...er, is that an S made of rocks? What in blazes does that mean?”

They stared at the rocks that were clearly manipulated to spell out the letter on shore. Huey approached the letter, squinting at the right side of it. “It kinda looks like there used to be other letters here, too. These few leftover rocks kinda suggest there used to be an O...”

Huey’s eyes widened, mouth slowly falling open as Scrooge answered everyone’s unvoiced question to what the rocks spelled out. “SOS.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes relating to this story: for people unfamiliar with the US Navy for whatever reason, I can provide some information on that. I’m not an expert by any means, but there are a few different customs for those in the Navy that are being honored after they pass. The folding of the American flag is traditional to all the branches of military. The rest of the ceremony though can have various customs, so I did mix up a few together for Donald’s. Another thing, while I do love Della, she obviously has shown in the cartoon that she has a lot of problems and hasn’t quite grown up yet. Della decided not to pursue a possible lead on Donald in this story, because she has grown and doesn’t leap at the chance for a foolhardy journey like she used to. Scrooge however, can never resist the idea of adventure. Even though he did give up on Donald being alive, he leapt at the first opportunity at the possibility he might be. As far as how time has passed by this point, I would say about a year and a month.
> 
> As far as updates will go, I was able to write quite a bit last week since I wasn’t working, but since I’m going back to work starting tomorrow updates will begin to grow slow. I’m ahead of this story by about 2 chapters so you all shouldn’t have to wait too long for those, but I thought it would be best to information readers that the updates might start becoming more sparse. Feedback and kudos are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time.

”Uncle Donald?!” Dewey was running across the beach towards the jungle, screaming in desperation.

“Donald! Might you be on this fair isle!” Storkules bellowed and followed after the young duck.

“Donald, lad, are you here?” Scrooge echoed after them, pausing in his stride when he realized Huey was still standing by the rock display, that tide was beginning to wash upon. “Huey?”

The 13-year-old had a distant look to his eyes and was clearly frightened by something. Scrooge could surmise what his fear was, as the elder duck had a similar one since they discovered that Donald might still be alive. “What if...what if he was here and isn’t anymore? What if no one is here? What if his...body is here and-and-what if he’s not even alive?”

Scrooge shook his head and grasped him firmly by the shoulder to attract his attention. “And what if we stay here worrying all day and never find out?”

Huey pondered the words and then nodded in response. While he didn’t seem to be any less anxious, he at least seemed willing to move forward. The young duck allowed his uncle to guide him along, going after the other two that had journeyed ahead of them. They followed the clearly marked trail that Storkules had left behind, the voice of Dewey screaming beginning to grow closer. When they finally caught up, they were in a clearing surrounded by several massive trees. 

“Dewey, you’re going to scream yourself hoarse at this rate. It might be best to conserve your voice.” Scrooge commented as he stood by his side.

“I just want him to hear us!”

“I think if Donald were here he could hear fine with him bellowing over there.” Scrooge replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the demigod.

“Friend Donald! Where might you be?!”

“Hey, you guys, look what I found,” Huey was now squatting on the ground, pointing at a piece of wire lying across the ground. “It looks a little like a tripwi-DEWEY, NO!”

His brother was already pulling at the wire, staring at it in confusion. Suddenly, a net was sprung from the ground below, gathering all of them into it, before lifting up into the air. It abruptly ceased movement, once they were high up in a tree with all four of them trapped inside a net. Scrooge and Huey glared daggers at Dewey. He shrugged sheepishly. “Uhhhh, how was I supposed to know that would happen?”

“What did I say about touching things?! Now we’re trapped in this bloody tree!”

“Trapped? No trap will hold the great Storkules!” The demigod thundered, already ripping into the netting surrounding them, causing it to tear easily from his incredible strength.

They all screamed ‘no’, as the trap dangerously creaked, their eyes bulging out of their heads as they saw the height they would end up falling if they allowed him to proceed. The demigod immediately ceased his efforts. Scrooge shook his head violently, poking the stork with his cane in response. “Don’t be daft! This height might kill us! This is no palm tree we’re dangling from!”

“Ah, forgive me, Friend Scrooge, as I forget how fragile mortals can be.” The demigod received a glare in response.

“Wow, this looks kind of like seaweed?” Huey observed in fascination. He licked at it before he made a disgusted face. “Oh, it most definitely is.”

Dewey groaned. “That’s nasty, bro!”

“It’s just seaweed, it wouldn’t hurt me. In fact, it’s actually pretty health-“

“Ummmm, you guys, what’s that?” Dewey pointed one of his fingers out of the net, at a bit of shrubby on the opposite side of the clearing.

The bushes rustled loudly, indicating that something was lurking about in them. Scrooge groaned, shaking his head. “Perfect! All this commotion attracted an animal to our whereabouts.”

“Ummm, Uncle Scrooge, I don’t think that’s an animal,” Dewey commented, as a stick with a sharp stone slowly rose out of the bushes. “OH MY GOD!”

The weapon was flung at their net, leaving the ducks screaming in fear as it hurtled towards the group. Storkules blinked in response, raising his hand through the hole he had created to catch it. The ducks had their eyes squeezed shut, opening them when they realized they hadn’t been injured. Strokules studied the spear and they all breathed sighs of relief.

“What is dismal downs is that?”

“I think it’s a spear?” Huey frowned, turning back to the bushes when they heard another noise. A moment later, a figure emerged from the underbrush, revealing it to be-“UNCLE DONALD?!”

The duck stood tall before the trap, clad in palm tree leaves as clothes, woven together to resemble a shirt and shorts. His beard went down to about mid-chest, the longest they had ever seen it. The duck wore a bandage made from a piece of light fabric around his forearm, with a few other spears across his back in a sling. He had a huge scar across his bill, going up between his eyes, before halting at his forehead. The most shocking part was the wooden leg made from driftwood Donald presented on his right side, instead of where a real leg should of been.

“Donald?!” Strokules cried out in surprise, making the trap rock back and forth.

“Storkules?” Was the raspy reponse to the question, before he noticed his boys were there was well. “Huey, Dewey? Uncle Scrooge?”

None of the others responded, clearly stunned by the sight of their dead uncle. They had believed so long that he was no longer alive that it was now a shock to the senses to see that he had in fact been this entire time. Donald frowned at demigod, speaking as if in a daze. “Why...didn’t you just get yourself out, Storkules?”

“I wouldn’t want to endanger your family with such an act.”  
The stroke’s voice was hushed and his eyes were wide.

“Ok, well, uhhhh, I’m just gonna cut this...” 

Donald pulled out a home made knife, appearing to be created from shells and rock tied together. He stabbed the rope, allowing the net to drop to the jungle floor as they all screamed in terror. Storkules landed first, before opening up his arms wide to allow Scrooge and the two boys to land safely into them.

Scrooge was the first to respond, scowling at the demigod. “Alright, alright, let me down already!”

The older duck was released, while the 13-year-olds cheered at being caught. Dewey crawled onto his shoulder, shaking his fists in the air. “That was so cool!”

Storkules let the both of them down, before approaching Donald, tears shining in his eyes. He reached out his large arms, wrapping them around Donald, hugging him to his chest. “I have missed you dearly, my Donald!”

There was a low wheezing noise, as Donald’s face was buried into his chest. The other three cringed away at the sight, glad they didn’t have to suffer the same fate as Donald. A moment later, he was released, returning once more to the floor. Donald landed on his feet, rocking dangerously, before regaining balance. He was visibly tense after the embrace he was given. 

Scrooge frowned and he studied his nephew. “Donald, lad, have you been here the whole time?”

“Uhhhhh, yeah...for awhile now,” The duck answered, appearing skittish, backing away from the group. “I just...”

They were all startled when he suddenly bolted, disappearing into the dense jungle ahead. There was a brief pause, before Dewey yelled in response. “WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”

If Scrooge had not been distracted by the escape he would have told his young nephew to mind his language, but he was too surprised that Donald had run off. Strokules gasped dramatically and ran after him. “FRIEND DONALD, WHERE ARE YOU HEADING OFF TO?!”

“Come on!” Dewey yelled. Huey immediately followed after, dragging Scrooge along with him by the hand. The older duck shook his head of the shock and allowed himself to be taken along. They all sprinted for a few minutes, before he nearly collided with Storkule’s back. Scrooge halted at the last moment, crouching down when he saw that the others were doing so. He realized they were hiding behind shrubbery, watching Donald from a distance. 

It appeared they were at a camp of sorts. There were pieces of golden metal and wood meshed together to create a lopsided hut. Underneath the home were leaves and grass that were clearly laid to produce a makeshift bed. Before the hut was a fire pit that was unlit, with clean roasting sticks laid overtop. Nearby were piles of coconuts and watermelon stacked onto one another.

On a rock nearby Donald sat, holding a watermelon in his hands, that had his hat on it, and what looked like a face. He was mumbling lowly to it, voice barely heard. “It’s happening again...”

“Don’t worry, friend, you will be safe if you stay here...” His voice took on a familiar hi-pitch.

“Uncle Donald, are you making the watermelon talk back to you?!” Dewey called out, standing up for his uncle to clearly see him.

Donald hissed at group, pulling out a spear from thin air, chucking it in their direction. Strokules easily caught it, before entering the campsite. “Donald, what befalls you?”

“YOU’RE NOT HERE!” He growled, sliding off of the rock and onto the ground.

“What the devil are you rambling on about?!” Scrooge raised his arms and waved his cane about. “We came all this way, only for you to deny we’re even here! You’re squawking at a piece of bloody watermelon and hissing at us!”

Huey was flipping through his Woodchuck guide book, glancing between the pages, and Donald. Dewey just looked confused and mildly disturbed by the talking watermelon. Donald stroked the fruit tenderly, whispering to it. “It’s okay, Mickey, I won’t let them get to you...shhh...”

“That’s just weird.” Dewey finally said.

Scrooge stepped forward, snatching the fruit from Donald’s hands without a single warning. “Enough!”

Donald seemed startled, eyes wide at the action. He stared at the fruit, then looked back up at Scrooge, who was furious. The younger duck blinked slowly, before replying. “Uncle... Scrooge?”

“Aye! Who else do you think I am?!”

“Um, Uncle Scrooge...” Huey whispered from behind him.

He turned around, glaring at the young duck. “What?!”

“The...uh, Junior Woodchuck handguide, says that castaway survivors must be reassured that ‘everything is all right’ and that there is nothing to fear...that there may be hallucinations they’re experiencing...Uncle Donald, do you think we’re hallucinations?”

The duck stared at them with wide eyes. “What...what else would you be? You’ve never been anything else.”

Scrooge felt his heart drop at the words and he allowed the melon to fall to the floor. Strokules sniffled loudly, approaching the fearful Donald. “Oh, Donald! We are not mere illusions of your mind! We truly have ventured far for you!”

“That’s what you said two days ago, too.” Donald replied, reaching to grab the Mickey Melon, and holding it tightly to his chest.

“What? Uncle Donald, it’s really us!” Dewey protested, squatting in front of him. He reached out, touching his leg gently. “See?”

He looked conflicted, clearly unsure on how to respond. Huey squatted next to Donald as well, pointing at his wooden leg. “What happened?”

Now that they all had a better view, they realized the leg was made of driftwood, spiltners hanging off of it. It seemed to be attached to him by wrapping and tying seaweed around the stump of his leg. There was a a flat stone used at the base, likely to provide weight for when he would take each step while walking. 

“You...you know...” Donald whispered, breathing heavily as if he had just finished running a marathon.

“I don’t though; I just got here, Uncle Donald...Mom has a leg like this, too.”

The duck’s eyes went wide at those words, mouth gaping open slightly. Storkules sat down next to the duck, wrapping a thick arm around his shoulders. “Donald, we have traveled here to return you home. Home to your sister, Della Duck.” 

Donald squeezed his eyes shut in response to the physical comfort he was receiving. Scrooge cleared his throat and reached out a hand to his nephew from above. “Please...lad, come home.”

Donald was panting, his grip on the Mickey Melon tight enough that they could hear it beginning to crack. His eyes were flying wildly around and Scrooge patiently waited for him to grab it. Donald flinched at the sight, but didn’t pull away. He let out a weak whimper. “...please, be real.”

“We are.” His uncle confirmed, feeling the hot tears well up in his eyes. Tears swam in Donald’s eyes as well and he let out a strangled cry at the words. Storkules pulled Donald into a full embrace, while the boys hugged him tightly from behind. The duck began to sob openly, clinging to Strokules as if he was afraid they were all about to disappear.  
*

When they had started to head back home, high above the ocean into the clouds, Donald had stared at Mickey Melon without a word. They hadn’t spoken much to him after it began to become clear he wasn’t wanting to speak at all. Scrooge had to practically drag the teenagers away, as they were speaking to him a million miles an hour and were clearly making him uncomfortable with all their questions. He had never seen his nephew make as much as a frightened face like he did at the boys before. Dewey and Huey were obviously besides themselves with joy and unfortunately were quite blinded by the fact that Donald was uneasy.

After finally getting the message from Scrooge to back off a bit, they had gone off to their seats in the plane. They were speaking to one another in low tones, which was surprising in itself. He hardly could get them to be quiet on adventures and here they were doing so willingly. The one that was shockingly the most quiet during the flight though, was Storkules himself. 

Scrooge wasn’t certain the reason as to why, but he needed to focus on flying his nephew back home, so he allowed himself to flush the thoughts of it from his mind. As they were leaving the island, he had asked several times if Donald needed a hospital, only to be rejected each time at the offer. Visibly he seemed to be alright, so Scrooge had finally agreed to doing so. 

The top thing he was stressing about at the moment was that fact that he needed to inform Della and Louie that the duck was alive. Each time he found himself reaching for his phone though, he couldn’t will himself to unlock it. His heart was thudding in his chest at the idea of doing so. With the one hand he held his phone, clenching it as tight as he teeth were at the moment, the either steering were they were going. The older duck was afraid that Della would be distraught about the fact that she didn’t believe while Donald had been waiting an entire year for them.

“Uncle Scrooge? Are you alright?” Dewey suddenly was hovering behind him.

Scrooge lowered the phone into his lap, refusing to turn around. He was certain his face betrayed what he felt at the moment and he didn’t want to worry the other too much. He finally decided for a bit of the truth. His voice came out steady, despite the turmoil inside. “Just a bit shaken up, lad.”

“...aren’t you happy we found Uncle Donald?”

Scrooge found a nervous chuckle escaping his bill. “Dewey, I don’t quite know what I’m feeling right now.”

“...I was happy, but...” Scrooge looked at the reflection of the windshield in front of him, briefly staring at his own pained expression. His eyes drifted to Dewey’s concerned face reflected beside his own. “But, now I’m just kinda worried about him...something is wrong.”

“He’s been stuck on an island all alone for a year, lad. I would be surprised if he wasn’t acting a bit dafty.”

“I mean, I know that! But, he’s talking to a watermelon! And he doesn’t want to say anything to us! I don’t even know how you’re ok with this!”

“I definitely am not. I just think if we’re going to deal with the watermelon, we should wait until we are safely home. I would prefer him to let out his temper back at the mansion.”

“Orrrr, I can just do this.”

“What? Dewey, what are you-?” He pressed the autopilot button and spun the chair around to face him. He froze when he realized the young duck was already heading towards Donald with determination in his eyes.

Dewey paused in front of his uncle and Donald looked up from silently staring at Mickey Melon. The moment Scrooge realized what was about to happens, he jumped up from the seat. If this had been a movie, he was certain what happened next would play in slow motion. Before he could get across the room though, the watermelon had been slapped out of Donald’s arms by Dewey.

It made a hollow thud noise, accompanied by a thick squelch sound as the juices of the melon leaked out onto the plane’s floor. 

Strokules, whom had been staring intently out one of the windows, looked away when he heard the noise. Huey was holding his guide book in his lap, staring at them from a seat on the opposite side of the plane with wide eyes. Dewey suddenly looked uneasy, as though he wasn’t certain he should have do what he did. “I’m sorry, Uncle Donald, but it was too weird and needed to go!”

They were all waiting for the other shoe to drop and for all of them to see the famous McDuck family anger emerge. Donald simply stared at the broken watermelon though, hardly breathing. Scrooge was already heading towards his nephews, panic setting in. He had barely arrived, when Donald was getting down on his hands and knees, picking up the chucks of the melon.

Huey and Storkules had headed over as well, when they witnessed the distressed expression starting to form on Donald’s face. There were silent tears leaking from his eyes. Dewey was backing away slightly with a hesitant expression. “Uncle Donald?”

“Why did you that?!” Huey hissed at his brother.

“I thought it would help! I didn’t know he would start crying!” Dewey cried back.

“Donald, lad, are you ok?” Scrooge ignored the teenagers, who had begun to bicker with one another.

Storkules was crouched down, reaching out to assist his friend in retrieval of the pieces, only to feel a hand wrap around his wrist. The demigod didn’t move a muscle, as Donald held his wrist, silently telling him not to. Strokules pulled his arm away gently, no longer trying to help. Scrooge thought this was worse than the anger. “Donald, are you alright?”

“No,” Was the reply, the haunted look from his nephew being directed at him. “My friend is dead.”

The teenagers jolted at the words, going silent again to focus on Donald. Storkules appeared to be visibly distressed by the words, face morphing into one that the older duck has never seen him make before. The stork abruptly stood up and headed over to the plane’s console alone.

Scrooge could handle that a different opportunity, as this was much more important. Donald sat back on his bottom, cradling the broken pieces, red juice leaking all over him. He cleared his throat, before speaking to Donald. “It wasn’t alive to begin with, lad. While I don’t think Dewey should have went about the way to do so, you would have had to eventually let it go.”

“I’m sorry...I thought it would help make him less...” Dewey mumbled and trailed off in guilt at his impulsive action.

Scrooge sighed. “Dewey, I’ll talk to you when we arrive home though.”

Dewey crossed his arms across his chest, before nodding stiffly. He then headed to one of the seats furtherest away from the group. Huey wrung his wrists. “Uncle Donald? I know it was a piece of fruit...but I’m sorry it passed away.”

Scrooge was about to protest at the wording, knowing that buying into the delusion was a poor idea, only to be surprised when Donald gave the red hatted duck a wobbling smile. Huey smiled back at him, reaching out his arms to hug his uncle. “We can bury him when we get home, if that helps.”

Huey pulled away and Donald stared down at his lap at broken pieces oozing into the fabric of the cotton shirt he had been given at some point. “No...he would want a burial at sea.”

Scrooge frowned, recalling the funeral services they held months ago. To hear how adamant the duck was about the decision was making Scrooge’s heart feel heavy. He couldn’t find it in him to say no. He knew he could hardly deny his nephew anything at the moment, after he had clearly been suffering on his own. He wasn’t sure he could deny him anything ever again. “Alright, Donald, we will hold a burial at sea when we return.”  
*

When they arrived back in Duckburg, they had landed bedside the pier. By the time they unboarded the plane, the sun was beginning it’s descent. The air felt warm, though not hot like on the island out in the ocean earlier on. A handful of clouds painted the sky, appearing golden from the sun reflecting off of them. In fact, the entire area seemed to bathed in the golden color, giving their feathers a certain glow to them.

Storkules had decided to stay on the plane, allowing the family to head outside. Before unoboarding, Huey had managed to find an old shipping container to house the remains of Mickey Melon on the plane. Donald held the small box tightly to his chest. He held it as though he were afraid to let it go. They had allowed Donald to sit on the edge of the pier on his own watching the sun begin to disappear beyond the horizon. He was staring out at it, with slumped shoulders. Just as the last light died away, Donald allowed the box to fall from his now lax hands, directly into the ocean.

“Do you think he’s going to be ok?” Huey asked Scrooge in concern. 

Scrooge wrapped his arm around his younger nephew’s shoulder, rubbing it help ease his worries. “I don’t know to be honest...but at least he’s no longer talking to that that God awful piece of fruit.”

When Donald turned to look at the pair standing behind him, the duck’s eyes swimming with tears. Huey rushed forward to embrace his uncle and Donald received him with open arms. The sailor held him for the first time in over a year, brushing his lips onto his forehead. “You’ve grown.”

Huey gave a watery laugh. “I’m taller than Louie and Dewey now.”

“...Dewey knows that I’m not mad at him right?”

“Probably not...I’m upset at him though. He should have not done that to you.”

Donald sighed wearily, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was just a piece of fruit...” 

“Was it though?” The younger duck looked up at him.

“...it was, but kept me company the whole time I was stuck on the island.”

“I’m glad you had someone.” Scrooge decided to give their embrace a private moment. He turned to the ocean, thinking about how last time he had been there was the day he had cried over the folded flag clasped in his hands. He was glad he was crying for a different reason this time.  
*

“Dewey?” The 13-year-old looked up from his phone, flinching at the voice of his uncle addressing him.

“Y-Yeah?”

Donald stood before him, offering him a weak smile, before he opened his arms wide. Dewey felt his bill wobbling and he flung himself into the embrace. The raspy voice sounded soothing. “I’m not mad.”

Dewey felt his throat burned. A moment later he was crying and so was Donald as well. He clung to the older duck, nuzzling his face into his chest, listening to his heart beat. “Y-You’re alive!”

“I’m alive.”

“I’m sorry!” He gasped out. “I’m sorry I k-killed the watermelon!”

Donald laughed weakly. “You know...hearing someone else say it out loud makes me realize how crazy that sounds.”

Dewey wiped the tears from his eyes. “It really was weird...did, uh, you give him the burial at sea?”

“I did...he helped me though a lot of lonely nights.”

“Uncle Donald...were you there the whole time?”

“Yeah, I was. I was actually on the moon before that believe it or not. I ended up in the same place your mother was.”

“I know. Penny told us...she said you should have died. How did you even survive?”

Donald seemed surprised that he already knew, before nodding. “I thought about you and your brothers. I couldn’t let another family member disappear on you, could I?” 

Donald wiped away the fresh tears Dewey had from the words. “I guess I’m not so boring now, am I?”

Dewey shook his head. “Nah, you still are.”

The younger duck laughed at the glare he received.  
*

“Hey, Mom, I think they’re back early.” Louie had looked up from his phone at the noise he heard outside. They had been relaxing on the couch, watching Ottoman Empire, enjoying each other’s company as the others were gone.

Della frowned, peeking through the window to see the Sunchaser approaching the mansion. “That’s weird. They were only gone for like two days?”

“Do you think...?” Louie felt what he would have to say was hope well up in his chest.

“No,” Della whispered, shaking her head at the words as she watched the plane began it’s descent. “There’s no way...is there?”

“Why else would they be back so soon?” His eyes shone with hope that she hadn’t seen from her son in a long time.

Maybe...just maybe Donald was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to show case how mentally unwell Donald was after his time alone on the island and how it has definitely affected his actions throughout this chapter. While I did think the Mickey Melon thing was hilarious and an obvious parody of classic Castaway movie Tom Hanks stars in, I decided to make it an actual representation of the movie, which showcases what Wilson the volleyball meant to a man that had been stuck alone on an island for years with no human interaction. Also, I hope I was able to write Strokules well? I had a ton of fun writing his interactions with the group, but have a difficult time with ye ol’ Greek God speech. I’m sure I did alright at the very least. Anyways, I have only one chapter prepared ahead and haven’t had much time to write another one, so chapters will begin to come out slowly soon, but I am definitely committed to seeing this idea through. Kudos and feedback are always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To start off there are a few trigger warnings in this chapter: There’s a scene depicting dissociation which lingers for the rest of the chapter after it starts. Definite themes of anxiety and self loathing involved with that as well. It starts during the scene involving Donald sitting down and talking with one of his nephews.
> 
> Other than that, be prepared to read a pretty long chapter. It’s around 8,000 words and yes I spent my day off yesterday finishing this lol Updates might become slower after this, since I have caught up to what has been written out. Hope this chapter tides you all over in the meantime though!

When they had landed the plane in the backyard of the mansion, the sun had slunk down below the horizon, a mild hue of blue settled over the scene. The stars were beginning to twinkle above them, hardly visible from the light pollution the city produced. The lights of the mansion though flowed through the open windows, illuminating them all as they exited the ramp into the back lawn. 

Scrooge urged Donald forward, despite the obvious fear etched on his face. Scrooge understood that fear personally. He had been so frightened seeing Della on his doorstep, that he thought she was a ghost. He had loved Della like a daughter and could only imagine what it was like to lose your twin. He knew Donald must have felt a million different emotions in that moment at the knowledge he would finally see her after all that time spent separated from her.

Scrooge had planned on unlocking the door and stepping alone inside first. He figured it would be best to prepare the others in the mansion before hand, so that they wouldn’t be stunned by the sight of Donald. This was definitely a different reunion compared to Della returning. She hadn’t had a funeral, an official end to her life. Scrooge hoped he wouldn’t live to see the day it really did happen. He didn’t think he would live to see Donald’s though and yet he had.

The older duck knew it would be difficult to explain that Donald had been trapped on an island for a year, instead of burning up in the rentry back to Earth. He wasn’t certain how the duck had survived yet as Donald made it clear he hadn’t wanted to speak on the ride home. Scrooge had survived so many different adventures that had nearly taken his life, that he understood why. You needed time to recollect your thoughts and decide your next course of action. So, that was he had allowed his nephew to do. And, while it would be nearly impossible for anyone to live through such an ordeal, Donald had done what any McDuck does: survive. 

Scrooge had just barely stepped off the ramp, as he had been the head of the group, when he was startled by the back door being flung open. Della was peeking her head out the door at them a moment later. “Uncle Scrooge? What are you guys doing back so early?”

Scrooge frowned. He had expected her to be shocked at the sight of her dead brother. Why on earth was she acting like he wasn’t the-The older duck turned around and realized Donald was nowhere in sight. Dewey and Huey awkwardly stood there, the one in the blue shirt whistling with nervous tension, though neither of them provided any answers. Scrooge raised an eyebrow at them and their eyes darted to the plane. So, their uncle had returned to the plane then. He sighed, shaking his head, before turning back to his niece. “We needed more supplies.”

“Oh, I thought you would have brought more...” She stepped out, looking around. The backlight flickered on from the movement. “Hey, where’s Strokules?”

“Uhhhhhh, he went back to Itaquack.” Huey provided, eyes darting everywhere except for her eyes. A lie. Strokules had been in the plane when they headed back over there, having decided to hole himself up against one of the windows as per usual of him.

Della appeared concerned at his anxious face. “Huey? Are you alright, sweetie?”

“Um, I’m just tired, Mom. I think after I help load some more supplies I’ll take a nap.”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious at his words now. Scrooge wished that he had taught the 13-year-old to lie better. Or at least as well as Louie could. She turned her gaze to Dewey. The weakest link. He could never to lie to his mother, no matter the circumstances. Her tone commanded no games and the other 13-year-old could feel his mouth going dry. “Dewey, did you all really come back for supplies?”

Scrooge was staring at him intently now with his back to his niece. Only the boys could see the way his face twisted in a silent message. His eyes seemed to communicate one clear thing: where’s your uncle? “Uhhhh, y-yeah, we did.”

Scrooge seemed impressed by his lie, knowing that wasn’t easy to do to his mother. Dewey had the tendency to to tell her anything that ran through his mind, no matter how personal. Perhaps he would be easier to teach than Huey?Scrooge turned to Della, giving her a large fake smile. “Welllll, lass, it looks like we should reload!”

He began to shove her back towards the door. He needed to find out why they had to lie, as Donald had decided to run off, which was never a good sign. Della frowned and halted him from doing so. Her metal leg was perfect at staying immobile when she wanted it to. She placed her hands on her hips and Scrooge was immediately reminded of the moments Donald would be upset at the children. He nearly choked at the sight of it. “Ok, what’s going on? You guys are acting really weird.”

“Nothing!” Scrooge’s voice took on a squeaky tone and he nervously cleared his throat. He tried to sound nonchalant and hoped it made it clear that all was fine. “Why would you think we were up to something?”

“Uncle Scrooge, you guys are acting kinda weird! Why are you trying to get rid of me so bad? Is this...about Donald?” Her hands slowly lowered, eyes wide.

“Er, Del-“

The duck gasped, hands covering her bill. “Did...you find something?”

“You could say that, but w-“

“Was there more evidence that he might be...?”

“Oh, there most definitely was...we’re not too certain yet though. I believe we need to return once more to make certain, but I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

Della sighed, slowly nodding her head. “You’re right....I think I should go talk to Louie...he was kinda expecting good news...”

She left on her own, shoulders slumped. Scrooge felt incredibly guilty for his lies. Even more so for getting Louie’s hope up. He wasn’t good at finding it ever. The older duck didn’t know if he could do that again to her. He whirled around with a glare at the boys. “Alright! Is there a reason why we had to lie to your mother?! Where’s your uncle?!”

“Strokules was coming out with him and when the door started to unlock, Uncle Donald freaked out!” Dewey immediately answered, pointing at the plane.

“Strokules brought him inside before Mom came out.” Huey offered, cringing at the negative attention they both received.

The older duck certainly hadn’t accounted for Donald to panic as much as he had and he was cursing himself for not thinking that through. His nephew had always been anxious about this type of events and now even more so. Scrooge headed up the ramp, starting to leave behind the other two, who scrambled after him. “Donald? Lad, where are you?”

“We are over here, Friend Scrooge.” He heard the demigod call out from a corner of the plane.

He followed after the voice, finding the stork to obviously be crouched down in the corner of the plane. He stood out like a sore thumb, a slight golden hue surrounding him. Scrooge wasn’t sure how he produced that glow, but he had long given up on trying to make sense of gods and goddesses. Strangely enough, he couldn’t see Donald anywhere around. “Where is he now?”

Storkules turned to the crate next to him, knocking on it gently. A moment later it started to clatter and shake violently. “Donald, Friend Della has not boarded the vessel.”

“...are you sure?” Came the anxious reply from inside the box, the shaking continuing. 

“I am the upmost confident that she is indeed not.”

A moment later the shaking box lifted it’s lid, revealing Donald to be hiding inside it. His eyes were darting around, a few stray feathers on top of his head askew. Scrooge knew his nephew had always been a bit strange, but this was taking it to a whole other level. He wasn’t sure if he should provide gentle or firm words to him at the moment. Donald hadn’t interacted with others for awhile and it was clear that the time on the island affected him. 

Scrooge thought of how Della still did a few odd things in public settings, just because she had lost the skills of talking to others. He supposed he should count himself lucky that he wasn’t dealing with Donald’s sister, whom had taken to being in literal strangers’ personal spaces, and yelling in greeting at them. That had been a rough few months for them all, especially after a number of people had issued restraining orders against her. He definitely couldn’t have a repeat of that.

“Is Uncle Donald hiding in a box?” Dewey whispered from behind. Huey shushed him, finger pressed against his bill.

“Lad, you can’t hide in there forever. I just had to lie to your sister about the fact that you’re alive and I would have preferred not to.”

Donald sniffled a bit, climbing out of the box with help from Strokules. His legs were trembling with anxiety. “I know. I just got...”

“Overwhelmed?” Donald nodded in response. “Aye, so did Della when she first came back. You want to know what made it different though?”

“What?”

“She had her family to talk to,” Scrooge had wrapped his arms around Huey and Dewey at the words. The pair gave their frightened relative a reassuring smile. “And she didn’t hide away like a coward.”

The duck scowled at him and Storkules reached out to hold’s Donald’s shoulders, massaging them. Scrooge narrowed his eyes at the action and the boy hissed in pain from his hands sighing in to their arms. “Hey! That h-“

Strokules had interrupted, a fire Scrooge hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “I am confident that my Donald is no coward! He is a mighty hero! He has-“

“No, Uncle Scrooge is right. I should go back out there...I need to stop hiding from her,” He turned to his friend, before hugging him as tight as he could. Strokules seemed surprised, before he smiled wide at the action. Donald’s voice was hushed as he spoke. “Thank you for your help.”

Donald released him and the demigod’s cheeks reddened at the words of praise. The stork was staring at him shyly, appearing bashful at the attention. Scrooge raised an eyebrow at the look. Ah, so that’s why Storkules had been so involved in the search. “I-I-I, uhhhhh, you are very most welcome, m-my Donald.”

Donald pulled away and turned confidently to head for the exit. Dewey and Huey looked vaguely confused about what had occurred, before following after their uncle to head out into the night. Once the pair were alone, the older duck glared at the stork. “You better watch yourself. I won’t have you making googley eyes at my nephew.”

Storkules looked confused. “Praise tell, are these googley eyes?”

“Stop staring at him like a love struck ninny!”

Strokules’ eyes widened at the words need as he shook his head waving his hands. His face has grown significantly redder at the accusations. “Y-You misunderstand!”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, lad. If I see you doing that again, you’re not going to like the consequences.” 

Storkules spurted and Scrooge found himself with an upper arm over the demigod in that moment. He didn’t stay to see what he would say next in response to his threats. The older duck followed after the others, feeling quite proud of himself. He wasn’t going to have any son of Zeus flirting with his nephew. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with that God in his everyday life if Donald decided to pursue Storkules back.

While Donald was heading to the back door, his confidence had clearly disappeared. His legs were shaking as though they were made of jello. Huey and Dewey were verbally urging him on. The duck seemed to be limping slightly though, unable to keep up there demand being asked. Scrooge frowned, noticing the unstable wooden leg. Donald had clearly not many options when he had built himself one and it was obvious that he wasn’t sure how to step on it. Della on the other hand had seemed like she had been used to having a prostheticand he supposed she did, after spending 11 years with the metal limb. While they had given it an upgrade it desperately needed, she had still managed to create a better limb than her brother did.

When they arrived at the door, Scrooge entered first, glancing around the room. No one was in sight and he was thankful for that fact. He figured it might be better to approach the other two after Donald had cleaned up a bit and break the news that he was alive that way. It would probably help his nephew relax as well. God knew that he needed relaxation desperately after what he had been through the past year. Scrooge flicked on the light, before waving a hand behind him, signaling that all was clear.

There was a sudden squawk noise from behind him and the sound of something loudly snapping. He spun around the noise and saw Donald fall onto his hands and knee. Huey and Dewey were crouched next to him, asking if he needed help back up, whispering loudly. Scrooge was about to question what happened, when he noticed the broken wooden remains of the leg that had previously been on Donald, now lying in splintered remains across the marble floor.

“Donald, are you hurt?” The older duck was now crouching down as well, palm on his shoulder.

Donald waved them all away, shaking his head. His cheeks had blush spreading across them. “I’m fine!”

“What noise has-?” Strokules had entered form behind them, gasping as he noticed what had happened. “Donald?!”

The blush deepened and Donald frantically shook his head. Scrooge knew his nephew didn’t like to have so much attention about his wellbeing, much as he didn’t. He removed his hand, standing up to give his nephew space. “I said I’m fine!”

Strokules was bending over, lifting up the duck into his arms despite his protests. While Scrooge didn’t like the demigod to be carrying the duck, he knew that the rest of them wouldn’t be able to lift him the way Storkules could. Donald wasn’t having any of it though, clearly embarrassed as he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Let me down! Let me down now!”

Louie suddenly wandered in the room, scowling. “What’s all that yelling?”

Huey and Dewey screamed at the sight of him, rushing forward to push him over as walked into the room. Louie toppled over as his brothers piled on top of him. They were trying to pull his hood over his head to shield his eyes. The duck in the green hoodie shouted at them and his face grew red at the sudden assault. “Get the hell off of me!”

Scrooge growled, waving is cane. “Boys! Get off of your brother!”

Huey let go immediately, knowing the tone Scrooge used was serious. Louie elbowed Dewey in the sternum, who wheezed and let go from the pain. The duck with the green hoodie’s eyes suddenly widened as he took in the scene beyond his brothers. Scrooge appeared furious at their fight, while behind him stood Storkules towering over them all, blinking in response to the family’s chaos. Donald laid out in his arms, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Scrooge internally cursed when he realized that the younger duck knew. “Now, Lou-“

“Oh my god...” Louie whispered, staring directly at Donald. 

Strokules quickly set down his friend, leaving an arm to wrap around Donald’s shoulder, so that he could stand. Huey sighed and stood up away from Louie. Dewey continued to roll around on the ground, clutching at his sterurm, cursing at his pain. Huey frowned at him, poking him in the side with his webbed toe, whispering harshly at him. “Dewey! Get up! This isn’t the time for this!”

Louie had turned an ashen color, carefully lifting himself with on unsteady legs. “Oh my god, it’s Uncle Donald.”

Louie was suddenly rushing forward, crashing into Donald, who would have fallen over if it wasn’t for Strokules keeping him steady. The teenager clung to his uncle’s shirt, crying loudly. Donald hushed him, petting him with a free hand. “Shhh...I’m here...”

“Y-You’re alive!” Louie suddenly pulled away, his eyes red, gasping. “What happened to your leg?!”

“I just had an accident, it’s not a big deal.”

“Your leg is gone! How is that not a big deal?”

Donald frowned. “From what I hear Della has a missing leg, too.”

“Yeah! But she has a metal one to replace it! You have nothing!”

“Well, I did, until it broke. It was driftwood after all.”

“Driftwood? Where have you been?! I thought you were stuck on the moon and you-you-“ Louie was once again burying himself into his uncle’s chest, face pressed into the tangled beard.

“Friend Donald, would you prefer me to bring you and Llewellyn to more secure position? I know that you would prefer to stand on your own, but seeing as that is not an option at the moment, I thought that would be best.”

“Uh, yeah. Bring me to the chair over there.”

Louie continued to cling to his uncle though. Scrooge rubbed at his bill, before speaking to the 13-year-old. “Louie, you have to let go of your uncle for a second. He needs to go sit down.”

Louie nodded after a moment, letting go hesitantly. Storkules helped Donald hobble to a chair near a large open window. Scrooge was confident that Donald wouldn’t let himself be carried again. Louie followed directly behind him, as though he were a lost duckling. Huey had begun to pick up the pieces of the leg, while Dewey groaned under his breath at the rest of them. “Nobody even cared that I was hurt...”

Scrooge glared down again him. “Lad, get off the floor already.”

Dewey pouted, before crossing his arms, and continuing to lie there. It was obvious he wouldn’t move an inch. Scrooge rolled his eyes at the dramatic actions, before heading over to Huey to assist with picking up the broken pieces. Huey looked up at the approach, before craning his head behind the older duck. “Is Dewey still on the floor?”

“Aye, unfortunately,” He laid down his cane on the floor as he crouched. He grumbled the next part underneath his breath. “I wonder about that boy sometimes...”

“Hmm?” Huey had looked back down at the broken pieces he had gathered.

“Nothing, lad,” He turned his gaze over to the chair Donald sat it, watching Louie sit in his lap, hugging him. “I think now would be best to find out where your mother is. I can handle the rest of this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, give over what you have there,” Scrooge reached out, taking the large pieces of wood in his arms. “Go along now. Make sure she doesn’t wander over here quite yet.”

“What should I say?”

“I’m certain you can figure that part out. You’re a bright young man after all,” He received a shy smile at the compliment and Scrooge smiled affectionately back at him. A year ago the older duck didn’t think he could smile the way he was at his nephew in that moment. Now here he was doing so with Huey. Things had definitely changed for the better. “Best not to delay. She might wander in here as your brother did.”

“I’ll keep her distracted.” Huey assured him, heading further into the house. Scrooge was left to gather the pieces into his arms, eyeing the broken splinters on floor. It appeared that Bentina wasn’t home at the moment, so he figured he might have to sweep up the rest of the mess. For now though, he needed to dump the remains he held.  
*

“Shhh...” Donald hushed Louie, as he began to calm down, gasping deep breaths between his cries. “You ok now?”

Louie wiped at the tears on his face, before nodding. He simply sat in Donald’s lap and hugging him like his life depending on it. He hadn’t curled up the way he was against another person for awhile. The last person had been his Mom when he was having a bad depressive episode a few months ago. “I-I didn’t know you were there the whole time...I-I just gave up...”

“Louie, everything is ok now.”

It felt like a lie. “It’s not though...I-I-I’m sorry!”

“Louie, I promise you that everything is fine. It’s not your fault I was there and it’s ok that you didn’t think I was still alive. I would be more worried if you were acting like Scrooge.”

“You mean like how he spent all his money?”

“What? His money?”

“He spent like half his life savings building rockets to find Mom. Did you not know that?”

Donald had a dark look in his eyes, one Louie had only seen his uncle have when he asked about his mother before she returned or when they used to not have much food left in the houseboat and Donald hadn’t been paid. “Uncle Donald?”

“Yeah?” Was the distant reply.

“Are you ok?”

“When did he tell you that?”

“He told us when we are all at therapy.”

Donald appeared bewildered now. “Therapy? You were at therapy? Wait, Scrooge went to therapy, too?”

“Yeah, we were...we missed you really bad Uncle Donald.” Louie pulled up his hoodie, hiding his face as he reburied his face into his uncle’s chest, the beard pushed to the side this time.

He felt a wing wrap around his head, squeezing. “Are you all ok? How did this happen?”

“It just kinda did,” Louie sounded muffled. “I needed to go first.”

Donald was alarmed by those words. The 13-year-old felt a tugging on his head to turn his face upwards. “Louie, look at me, tell me, why did you need to go?”

Louie had glanced up, tears swimming in his eyes. “I...I’m a little messed up...I...have...I have depression, Uncle Donald.”

“What?!” Donald grabbed at his face, panicked. Louie felt his cheeks get squished by the groping as Donald began to speak as quick as Huey did when he was anxious. “Depression? Oh my god, are you alright? Louie, is this because of me?”

“No, well, kinda, I...the doctor said I’ve probably started to have it and didn’t notice until puberty started to happen, so it wasn’t really noticeable until recently.”

“What? You’ve never shown signs of being like that before. How long were you feeling that way?”

Louie looked away, mumbling. “I thought being randomly sad...was normal, so I never said anything...it was happening for awhile...”

Donald looked stunned at the words. He released his nephew’s face as he thought. He hadn’t known. Louie had been suffering for possibly years and he never noticed the pain he was in. How could he be so neglectful? “Oh, Louie, I’m so sorry...I...”

Donald got a distant look in his eyes, feeling miles away at the moment. He neglected the way his nephew felt. He had failed Louie. Just like everything else in life, he had failed. He had always failed everything and ruined everything he was a part of. Donald felt suffocated at the knowledge of that and noticed himself choking. He vaguely saw Louie, in slow motion, looking concerned, shaking his arm. Donald didn’t respond. Couldn’t? He couldn’t respond, he felt paralyzed. Louie was slowly getting off him, slowly running away. Where? 

It didn’t matter where. Louie was running away, because he couldn’t stand him. His nephew-his son was leaving and he felt hopeless about that knowledge. If he didn’t have his children, what was the point? He had spent so long raising them that he knew no other purpose for his life. Donald had solely focused on staying alive for his boys and now that he was back, he didn’t have any other reason to continue on beyond the island. And to find out he failed them? Even though he thought he raised them right, he really hadn’t. He had failed being a parent.

He was staring at Strokules’ face suddenly, vision full as the stork entered his personal space. He didn’t feel anything anymore. He had felt so much blame and hopelessness. He only felt apathy now, as he watched the concerned face in slow motion. He couldn’t comcerntate enough to respond. He felt himself being lifted up, scooped into the arms of the demigod. They were moving, heading towards another room. He stared blankly upwards at Strokules, watching his furrowed brow. The demigod was clearly on edge. Why?

Donald turned his head to the side, watching where they were heading to.They were now in the entry way, heading towards the main staircase. Louie was leading him up there, stumbling slowly up the stairs. Louie didn’t leave. Even though he didn’t leave, Donald found himself not caring a bit. They were heading up and up and up. Where to? Did it even matter where? They could be leading him up the roof to drop him and he wouldn’t care.

A door was swung open, one of the many bathrooms in the mansion being revealed.  
Why was he here? What where they going to do to him? He didn’t like this. He didn’t trust what was happening. Why wasn’t he just left alone on the island? He didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s actions there. He distantly heard the sound of bath being filled. Water? It sounded like the waterfall on the island. He had used to drink from the water there, the cool moisture collecting on his skin on hot days. 

Strokules was in his face again, asking him a question. Wasn’t he just on the island? It was hard to understand, as his voice was barely heard and the slow motion didn’t help at all. His clothes? He was being asked something about his clothes. He blinked at the words, hardly understanding them. What was the context? Louie was next to him now, pointing at his own sweatshirt. He made the motion of removing it and Donald understood. What did he want though? Water, water was familiar. It reminded him of the waterfall. He nodded, feeling his head bobbing slowly.

Storkules was removing his shirt and was lifting him up. A moment later he felt warm bath water meeting him from underneath. Donald knew he liked it, whatever was happening to him. The water was nice. The water made him more aware. He was in one of the bathrooms of the manor and Storkules was being handed a bottle of shampoo from Louie. Shampoo? He wasn’t sure how it seemed to skip forward, but suddenly he felt large hands lathering the soap across his head and lower face. They were careful to stay clear of his eyes and the massaging felt good.

He sunk down slightly into the bath, sighing with content. The sloshing of the water was no longer distant and he started to hear Louie speaking softly to him. “Does that feel better, Uncle Donald?”

Donald turned slightly, noticing Storkules kneeling beside the tub, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He had never seen the demigod look like that before. Donald didn’t like the concern. “Why...are you upset?”

Strokules looked immediately relived, reaching into the bath hug him tightly. The water sloshed out of the tub as he was engulfed in the thick arms. “I was concerned for your wellbeing, my Donald.”

“Uncle Donald? What happened? Why weren’t you talking?”

Donald was released and he looked at his nephew, the tear tracks visible in his feathers on his face. He reached out a hand to stroke Louie’s cheek, whispering to him. His voice sounded disused, as though he hadn’t spoken in centuries. “I don’t really...I don’t think I was really here...everything was slow... and I couldn’t say anything back...I could barely hear anything...I’m sorry...”

Louie frowned. “You’ve been here the whole time though.”

“I don’t...” I don’t feel like I hav been though. I think I’m still stuck on the island. I don’t think I ever left. He covered his hand over his bill, squeezing his eyes shut. Even if this wasn’t real, he could never say something like that to one of his nephews. Even if they were figments of his imagination.

“Llewellyn, I believe it would be best to gain assistance from your uncle,” Louie immediately nodded, running off from the open bathroom door. Steam was rising in the room from the bath tub, creating a hazy looking to the air. It seemed as though things were beginning to grow slow again. “Donald, are you well?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel...real.” Donald confessed, looking down at his reflection in the water. He couldn’t seem to register that was himself he was staring at. Even if the beard wasn’t covering his face he wasn’t sure he would be able to tell. Who was he staring at?

“You are though...I am not confident that I know how to assist you in that belief.”

“The water helped. It’s warm and nice and your hands were...” 

“I am elated that I was able to assist you, but what can I do to ensure your belief that you are in fact here?”

“I don’t know.” He repeated once more, frowning at the demigod. How many times did he have to say that to him? Was he even listening?

“Are you dissatisfied with me? You appear unhappy.”

“I don’t know!” He found himself growling. It was like Strokules hadn’t heard a word he said. His fists were clenched and felt suddenly angry. He didn’t want to speak about the same thing over and over again. It made him annoyed. The duck wanted to be alone now. “Go away!”

“It is my belief I should stay here with you instead.”

“I said go away! You’re making me-“ He slammed one of his hands onto the lip of the bathtub, finding his temper rising. He paused, breathing deeply. He thought about his therapy for his anger management and thought about why was he angry. He needed to calm down now.

“Donald?” Strokules appeared frightened by his behavior. 

Think. Why was he angry? He kept hearing similar questions over and over again. That was a small part of it. What else? The concern. He didn’t like the concern. He didn’t want anyone to see him at his weakest and yet Strokules had been here the whole time. He hadn’t said a negative thing though. The demigod wasn’t judging him. He just wanted to make sure the duck was fine. He took a deep breath, speaking steadily. “I was just upset, because I don’t want anyone to see me being weak.”

“You are not though. I have always admired your strength you hold within your heart. I simply wish to know that you are well in this moment. I...” Strokules’ face turned a reddened hue as he continued on. “...care about your...state of health.”

Donald felt himself flush at the words. He was never certain on how to respond to others showing him care. He barely could respond to it when his nephews were worried and definitely couldn’t handle Strokules’ worry for him. He found the words rumbling from his bill. “Um, er, I don’t know what to say.”

“You do not have to utter a word. I simply yearn for your prosperity.”

If Donald hadn’t been still in a state of fog, he would have realized what the stork was implying. All he knew was that he didn’t feel quite right. He couldn’t feel his body, even though he knew he should. He could only feel the heat of the water and the cool porcelain touching his skin. He couldn’t recognize his own body and was starting to feel a bit out of it again.

“Friend Donald? You appear to be slipping away from your senses.”

“Yeah...I think I am...” His voice came out toneless.

“Donald, please do not do so. Stay here. You are here.”

“How do I know I’m not telling that to myself? Maybe you’re not real. Maybe I’m the only thing here that is,” Donald was going to choke, again. He didn’t want that. “Please, I don’t want to be the only one, please...”

Suddenly he was sobbing, reaching out to the demigod. He had felt nothing and he felt everything. The demigod appeared taken aback, before reaching out to grab the duck’s hand in his own. Donald gasped at the feeling, before keening in response. “That feels real, does it not? You can feel my hand lying upon your own.”

“Uh, yeah, I can...you’re real...am I?”

“Of course! Who else would raise his nephews to be such noble warriors?”

“D-Did I though? They all went to therapy...Louie has depression...he’s had it for awhile and I never noticed...I feel like I failed them...I always fail...”

Strokules appeared unsure as what to say. He was thankful when there was a knock upon the door. He turned to greet who had entered. Scrooge stood there and frowned at the pair, but clearly opted not to address the demigod. He approached the bath tub, folded up towel in hand. “Are you alright? Louie was fairly distressed, saying you weren’t well.”

“I was just...I’m fine.” 

Scrooge raised and eyebrow. “Really now? Because Louie said you weren’t responding and Strokules had to carry you up here...which I’m still quite confused as to why.” 

Strokules received a glare and the stork felt his heart drop in his chest. He knew how this looked and cleared his throat to explain. “I thought the sensation of a temperature change would assist with his wellbeing. He appeared to be in a type of shock.”

Scrooge blinked in surprise, before his glare intensified. He didn’t like the gaze his friend’s uncle had set upon him. Why had he been so furious? Had he not helped return his nephew to his former state?The younger duck stared at him in shock though. “How did you...?”

Strokules appeared weary suddenly, drained. How could he explain the meaning behind his actions? “I knew another...long ago that would need the aid of warmth to soothe their fear.”

Scrooge frowned at the words, feeling as though they held a secret meaning to them. He had always thought the demigod was superficial, but the longer he was in company with him and not near his father, he seemed to be another thing all together. He clearly was uncomfortable about the topic though and didn’t want to speak about himself. The older duck stored away more information to address Storkules about later. “Well, Donald, how are you feeling now? Huey and Dewey have been keeping your mother busy, but I wanted to know if you would be willing to see her.”

Donald paled at the thought, feeling anxious. “I-I don’t think...can I...can I shave?”

Scrooge frowned at the avoidance at the question, but did not ask again. “You don’t have to ask you know. This is your home. And you’ve never asked in the past.”

“Oh, uh, well I thought maybe that...”

“Donald, I can bring you the blade and cream. Would you like to be alone to shave or do you need help?”

Donald thought for a moment, before shaking his head no. “Alright, I’ll bring a chair as well for you. Strokules, perhaps you could assist me?”

It was clearly not a request, but a demand, and Storkules could view it as such. “Yes. Until later, my Donald.”

“See you later...” Donald responded quietly. The stork headed to the open door. Scrooge set the towel down on the lip of the tub. He nodded at his uncle. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” He followed after Storkules into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He whirled around, pointing at the demigod dangerously as he hissed. “What the bloody hell did I say?”

“Friend Scrooge, it was not my intentions to over step any boundaries placed. Donald was accepting of each action I performed in there.”

“Only because he’s in a vulnerable state! Louie told me he wasn’t responding to anything! Now, I know you said that someone else you knew responded well to that, but what if it made it worse! Just because you have some crush on my nephew, doesn’t mean that you just go galavanting around doing whatever you want to him!”

Strokules appeared surprised at the rant he received. “I hadn’t meant...I would never had taken advantage...I simply performed the only...I did not want...”

“While I am thankful you found Donald for us all, I can’t have you being here when he clearly can’t think for himself right now! He needs his family right now and not a-a-a child with a boyhood crush!”

Storkules appeared thrown off by his furious rant. Scrooge was standing there, shoulders heaving as he attempted to collect himself. Having the stork stare at him, eyes shining with hurt only added kindle to the fire. “Just go back to Ithaquack!”

Strokules choked at the words, before spilling out his sentence. “I cannot!”

“And in why God’s green earth can’t you!?”

“I have...I have angered father and he has...banished me for my behavior.” Thunder rumbled suddenly in the distance.

Scrooge felt the fire die out, replaced by confusion. “Whatever for?”

“I was...I disobeyed when I restarted the Earth’s rotation and...I wanted...I needed to locate Donald he refused to allow me and I...I was banished for my pursuits.” The thunder sounded closer, lightning flashing in the distance. 

“Why would he banish you over that?”

Storkules glanced out the window, clearly nervous. “My father...you, neither of you can compherehend...he didn’t the first time I disobeyed for another and...and I desired to...”

There was a loud clash of thunder in the distance, close enough to make the startle in surprise. Scrooge growled, shaking his head. “Why is he throwing a tantrum? Stop that now!”

“Friend Scrooge, it matters not at this time. I apologize for overstepping bounds while Friend Donald was clearly not well. I hope that you may find strength in your heart to forgive my actions.”

Scrooge frowned, growing impatient at the demigod’s behavior. “We’ll see about that. I might be more forgiving if you leave now.”

“If that shall appease you, I will take leave.” Strokules turned away, watching the storm retreating. There was something that made Scrooge feel almost...guilty about forcing him to leave, when he was no longer allowed to return home. 

“Where are you heading off to if I make you leave?” 

Storkules turned back around at the words. “I will journey to a path on my own.”

Scrooge wasn’t sure if he would regret this later on, but he made the decision to make the offer anyways. “You can stay in one of the guest rooms if you would like.”

“I wholeheartedly believe I shouldn’t intrude upon you any further.”

Scrooge didn’t realize how humble he was until this moment, very unlike Zeus. It wasn’t what he expected and made him want to help even more. “Look, I was...at least stay at Donald’s house boat. We still have it sitting in the pool.”

The stork’s eyebrows furrowed. “Would Donald accept those conditions? We did not fare well as roommates.”

“I’m not saying you two will be roommates again, especially since I think it would be best if he stayed in the mansion for awhile. And I’m certain that he has other things on his mind now. Just go before I change my mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, Strokules finally nodded at him. “I set forth gratitude for your generosity.”

“Aye, now begone with you.” He waved the demigod away and headed to another room to search for what Donald needed.

*

When Scrooge had returned with one of his newer blades and shaving cream, Donald was sitting on the edge of the tub with the towel wrapped around his waist. The older duck approached him, handing him a shirt he had brought along as well. “I want sure where you kept your razor, so I brought my blades for you to use.”

Donald nodded wordlessly, before reaching out for the shirt. As Donald removes the towel and started to put on the shirt, Scrooge set the chair in front of one of the sinks. The older duck tried not to stare at the obvious scar on his nephew’s bill, but he did gasp when he noticed the one on Donald’s midriff. It was huge and jagged, a few feathers clearly missing and refusing to grow back over the healed skin. He hadn’t seen it earlier since the waterline and the towel hid it, but now it was revealed to the world.

The younger duck slid the shirt over his head. He refused to make eye contact as he explained. “It was from when I first...landed. I don’t really remember what happened, but I woke up with a hole in my side.”

“A hole? That looks bigger than a hole, lad. How did it not get infected?”

“Salt water is really good at cleaning out your wounds.” 

“And...what happened to your leg?”

Donald had reached for the blade, had gone to stand, and Scrooge reached out to wrap his arm around his shoulder. Donald had a perfectly blank face as he was helped to the chair. “It got crushed.”

“Crushed?”

“Yeah,” He offered no more explanations as he was sat down into the cushiony seat provided. He reached out for the bottle of shaving cream and began to lather the cream through his beard. He looked back to his uncle.

“Do you need...help with shaving?”

“No.” The duck was already sliding the blade across his beard, allowing large pieces to fall to the floor. Scrooge nearly cursed himself for asking such a question. Donald had been doing that for years by this point. Why was he even asking that?

He decided to change his line of questioning. “What happened earlier? Louie was in hysterics about you not responding.”

“It wasn’t really anything. I was just tired.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want your answer to be? Because that is obviously a lie.”

Donald focused on returning his face to the way it looked before. “Uncle Scrooge, I’m fine.”

“You most certainly are not. You’ve been stuck on an island alone for a year. And you were talking to that bloody watermelon that you kept calling your old friend’s name.”

Donald paused, turning his head to the side to look at him. “You remember Mickey?”

“Of course, lad. I would have to be senile not to. You and him used to spend hours in the backyard together.”

“Yeah...I haven’t seen him for years...”

Scrooge sighed. “I just saw him the other day at your...gathering.”

Donald’s eyes widened and he stared at his uncle. He had half of his beard finished and the shaving cream was dripping into the sink. “I had a gathering? With what body?”

“We didn’t have one and...well, it was time.”

“I...you spent a whole two years looking for Della and used up half of your money for her and couldn’t even wait to see if I was really dead to bury me?”

“I didn’t tell you that. Which one of the boys told you?”

“It doesn’t matter who did.”

“Now, Donald, that isn’t very fair the way you’re acting about it. I-“

“Get out,” Donald setting down the blade, leaving the shave unfinished. “Just get the hell out!”

“You can’t tell me to leave. This is my mansion and no one can tell me to leave, not even you,” Donald started to shake, face turning a red hue in response. Scrooge knew what was coming next if he didn’t give Donald the space he needed. He didn’t want to play this game though. “Are you about to throw a fit because I’m not leaving when you yell at me to?“

Donald practically had steam coming from his ears at the words. His breathing was growing ragged with slowly burning anger. Scrooge could see the spark of him tipping over in his eyes a moment before it happened. “GET OUT OF HERE!”

He twisted his body towards Scrooge and the motion made the chair tip over. The younger duck was falling onto his side, the chair loudly clattering. Scrooge gasped as he watched it happen, unable to save his fall in time. Donald landed harshly on his hip, hands slamming onto the bathroom’s tile. His nephew squawked in a combination of anger and pain. “SON OF A BITCH!”

Scrooge reached out to help, but Donald, had suddenly started to flail around in his anger. He stood where he was, watching his fit of of anger explode. Scrooge didn’t dare interfere with his temper. He allowed him to ride it out and after a minute, Donald began to quiet down, panting heavily with his fading anger. He crouched down next to him. “Are you hurt?”

Donald glared at him, turning away. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Donald, I already did leave you alone. For an entire year.” He wearily explained.

Donald crossed his arms, lying on his side. “...you spent more time looking for Della...you spent more money...you had a...you buried me.”

“Well, we actually had a burial at sea for you. After all, you were in the Navy, god doing who knows what. I know you’re not allowed to tell me, but I wanted to least honor that.”

Donald whirled around, face twisted in fury. “YOU SHOULD’NT HAVE HAD ONE IN THE FIRST PLACE! YOU DECIDED TO JUST LEAVE ME OUT THERE ALL ALONE!”

Scrooge jumped up and puffed out his chest, heaving in reply. “You can’t expect me to do the same thing each time I lose one of my relatives, can you now?!”

“Apparently you could throw it all away to try to find Della though!”

“Aye! That’s what the problem was! It was my everything! I was spending all of me hard earned cash!”

“But, apparently you couldn’t do the same for me!”

“BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE RAN MYSELF INTO THE GROUND UNTIL I DIED, YOU BAMPOT!”

Donald’s eyes widened at the words. “...what?”

“I let it consume me the first time, Donald! I was so desperate to save your sister that I was willing to push myself to the limit to get her home. I could barely take care of myself and I was well on my way to doing the very same thing for you. And, if it wasn’t for Della and the boys I would have let it.”

“But, but...you...I didn’t know...”

“I know you didn’t. I didn’t even realize until...I’ve been going to a therapist. He’s made me open my eyes to my issues. I couldn’t keep living the way I was. I don’t think I would have stopped. I barely survived her disappearing, but I don’t think I could have survived you too.”

Donald sat across from him and stared at him with wide eyes. Scrooge’s eyes were full of tears, a sight that the younger duck had rarely ever seen before. After a moment his uncle sat down next to him and engulfed him in a hug. “I’ve missed you so much, Donald.”

Donald suddenly pushed him away, face pained. The older duck didn’t expect it. The moment hugs were involved, his nephew always caved, and would hug back. Not this time it appeared though. “You still left...you left me out there and didn’t try to find me anymore and I don’t think I can forget that.”

Scrooge’s heart ached at the words. “But, lad...I...I...”

Donald pulled his knees up to his face and hid his eyes. “Scrooge, please just leave me alone.”

Everyone one of his nephews or his niece didn’t use the title of ‘Uncle’ he knew what it meant. It was a rejection. It always had been and always would be. That hurt him more than anything else in the world could. After a moment the older duck nodded, heading to the bathroom door. He paused at the entryway, refusing to allow his nephew see the anguish plain on his face if he decided to look up from his knees. His voice sounded weak, on the verge of having a breakdown though. He could barley control himself. “...I-I’m sorry I left you.”

Scrooge never received an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, wow I can’t believe I’m at over 100 kudos! Thank you for you support everyone! Alright, I know this chapter was a lot to take in, but I do have a few notes for this chapter. First off, I definitely do think Storkules and Donald would be a cute ship and if you have read my other story, you would know I included something relating to that. I definitely don’t want to queerbait though and say upfront that this story will not have Storkules and Donald as a couple. The demigod will be definitely featured quite a bit in future chapters though. Another thing I wanted to speak about is the dissociation featured in this chapter. While I do know each person that suffers from this has different experiences, what I have depicted is my own personal times I have had an episode. My final note: please don’t kill me for making Scrooge sad!!!!!!! Things have to get worse before they get better! Ok, bye!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there are trigger warnings for this chapter: talks of suicide are spoken about in this chapter and it starts during the therapy session about half way through the chapter. Please be safe!

“Heyyyyyy, Mom, how’s it going?” Huey had entered the game room and asked the question in all of one breath. 

Della sat on the couch, hands flying across the game controller, as she played a video game. She didn’t look away from the screen, but did raise an eyebrow at her anxious teenager’s tone. “I’m doing fine, sweetie. I thought you were going to take a nap?”

“Ohhhh, yes, haha, I’m not so tired anymore.”

She paused the game, turning to him. Something was up, he was acting weird. “Alright, you’re starting to sound funny, and I know your voice hasn’t dropped yet. Something is going on, isn’t it?”

He laughed awkwardly, face flaming at her mention of puberty, and his fear of being caught in his lies. “What? Of course not! We already told you we’re fine.”

“You’re as bad of a liar as Dewey is. Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not? Is Uncle Scrooge making you hide something?”

“No! Of course not. Like I said, everything is fine!” Della had set down the controller and stood with crossed arms. He gulped visibly as he backed away and she approached him with a serious look. “M-Mom?”

“If you’re not careful...” She raised her hands, wiggling her fingers. “I’m going have to force the truth out of you!”

Huey’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes!” She lunched at him then, tickling his sides without mercy. He screeched in horror, attempting to push her away, before finally succumbing to his fate. He howled with laughter. “Tell! Me! The! Truth!”

“M-Mom, p-please! I-I’m too old for this!” Huey was crying from his laughter.

“I’ll stop if you tell me the truth!” She was surprised when his laughter stopped and he started to cry in earnest. It was clear she had pushed him too far. She stopped immediately, frowning. “Sweetie? Are you alright? I didn’t push you too far, did I?”

He laid on his side, crying as he covered his eyes. “I’m fine...I just can’t lie to you...”

Dewey burst into the room suddenly. “Mommmmm! There you are! Anddddd Huey is crying?”

Huey peeked through his fingers at his brother, blinking away his tears as he stared. “Ummm, Mom, what’s going on here?”

“I think I might have tickled your brother a bit too much. I wanted answers and went a little too far. You however, are the weak link and I wouldn’t have to do much to get answers. I could barely touch your sides and you’ll reveal all!”

Dewey was backing away slowly, raising his hands to her. “Ohhhhhh no, I’m not so good at the tickling!”

“Tell me what’s happening then!” She lowered her hands, looking concerned. “You two are worrying me. I thought we decided to not hide our feelings. The therapist says that-“

“-it’s better to say what you’re feeling, then keep it all in,” Dewey finished for her, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just something kinda...big?”

Huey had stood up and headed over to the couch to sit down. He was wiping his eyes on the shoulder of his sleeve. “Mom, it’s about...”

There was a loud thump noise from above the room. The trio jolted at the sound, leaving them surprised. Della spoke first as she pointed the ceiling. It was clear she thought that they were the ones that had done so. “What in the world is that?”

“Ummmm...it’s the...dog we brought in?” Dewey answered unconfidently, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, we found a dog...that’s the big secret.”

“A dog?”

“That’s right, a dog,” Dewey confirmed, staring at her with a serious face. She narrowed her eyes at him and he gulped. Finally he cried out, falling to his knees in front of her. “Ok, ok! It’s not a dog! It’s Uncle-“

“Uncle Scrooge!” Huey cut in.

“Well, what’s wrong with him? Is he alright?”

“He has a secret!”

“Since when doesn’t he?” Neither of them answered that. “Boys, if I don’t hear the truth this instant, I’m going to actually get angry. Do you understand?”

Huey and Dewey grimaced at the words. Finally, Huey decided to speak for the pair of them. “It’s Uncle Donald.”

Della stared at him, blinking slowing. “Is this about the evidence Uncle Scrooge found?”

“Oh, we found some evidence alright! Some real big evidence!” Dewey was laughing awkwardly.

“Anddd, what evidence would that be?”

The pair looked at one another, before both telling her together. “Uncle Donald is al-“

“UNCLE SCROOGE!” Louie was barreling down the hallway, seen from the open doorway to their left. Huey and Dewey stared in surprise at their other brother and were confused by his behavior.

“Louie?!” Della was running out of the room in an instant, heading after the duck in the green hoodie. The pair of ducks were left behind as she went after her other teenager. She quickly caught up to him, grab him by his midriff, halting his sprint. “Louie, baby, what’s wrong?”

“Let go, let go! I need to get Uncle Scrooge!”

The duck himself appeared from around the corner, disgruntled expression making it clear that he didn’t like the screaming. He froze at the sight of Louie struggling against his mother though. “What in blue blazes is going on here?”

Della continued to firmly hold her squirming son. Louie was waving one of his hands at him. “Uncle Scrooge! There’s an issue!”

Scrooge narrowed his eyes, before nodding. It was clear something had happened to Donald. “Ah, I see. Della, where are Huey and Dewey?”

“They’re back in the game room. Scrooge, tell me what’s going on? I don’t like my boys lying to me and I really don’t like you acting like I’m blind to something happening.” She had released Louie, who had taken to hopping back and forth on each webbed foot.

The disuse of title of uncle said it all it all to him. This was a time to tell the truth. It should have always been, but now it finally time to tell her. “Lass, I can tell you when I return from what’s happening. I believe the issue is something I should take care of right now.”

“And what is the issue? I’m getting tired of you all avoiding telling me the answer.” She stood in the hallway blocking his way. 

Louie stared back and forth between the two. He was shaking with nerves. The boy only did that if something was really wrong. Scrooge knew time was of the essence by this point. “Della, let me by now. I promise you I can tell you the moment I return, but I need to go because it might be something I need to get to right this instant.”

“Mom? Please.” Louie whispered, reaching out to hold her hand.

She stared down at him, with his pleading eyes. Louie would have never been this panicked if it wasn’t serious. He was usually good at keeping his cool when it came to nontrivial things. This was definitely not one of those moments though. After a moment of indecision she nodded, stepping to the side. “You better give me a good reason why you and the boys have been lying to me since you all got back.”

Scrooge nodded at her and then took off. While he hadn’t ran, he had walked swiftly from the hallway. He only did that in emergencies. This whole situation was setting her on edge. She was expecting the worse to be revealed now. The duck turned to her son, unable to wait for her uncle to return to explain. “Louie, what’s going on?”

“Mom...” She turned around at the sound of Dewey’s voice, seeing her other two teenagers approach approach her. Huey was wringing his hat his hands. Louie was pulling his hoodie over his face. Dewey bit at his nails, before continuing on. “Uncle Donald is alive.”

She had nearly bolted after Scrooge the moment the word’s left Dewey’s mouth, so that she could demand answers, but she halted herself. The duck needed to hear the full story before she made a decision she would regret. After all, she had a history of that, didn’t she? “Dewey, how do you all know that?”

Huey had tears pooling in his eyes. “Mom, we found him.”

“What?” She barked sharply and she felt fury settle into her bones. Screw being calm now. Even after all the therapy and promises they wouldn’t hide anything from each other, the family decided to sneak around behind her back and hid her brother. “And you all decided to lie?”

“Please, don’t be mad, Mom!” Louie cried out. “Uncle Donald was scared to see us and just needed some time!”

“HE’S HERE?!” She was running out of the room and down the hallway, frantic to see her brother after all these years. She ignored her children’s cries and how they chased after her. The sounds of their feet grew distant, as she begun to fling open doors at random, scanning for sight of anyone. “Scrooge, where is he?! Donald?! Where are you?!”

“Mom! Stop!” Louie was running towards her, yelling in panic. It almost sounded like how he did earlier, when he was after Scrooge to help the emergency. It all made sense now. With Donald. Donald was the emergency. Donald was in trouble and she didn’t know where he was. She needed to see him right now.

She whirled around, grasping him tightly by the shoulders. “Where is he?!”

He had flinched at her tone and her grip, eyes squeezed shut. Dewey and Huey had caught he up as well and were frozen in shock in what was happening. They had never seen their mother act this way before. She seemed so frantic. They were all suddenly frightened by her behavior. She was practically vibrating with furious tension. After a second of fear on what she would do next, her eyes dulled in intensity. She then enveloped her terrified son into a gentle hug. “I’m sorry, baby, that wasn’t a good thing to do you. Did I hurt you?”

She felt a shake of a head against her chest, letting her know he was physically alright. She pulled his face away, cupping it with her hands. She placed a simple kiss against his forehead. “I’m sorry for doing that to you. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just got really upset. Please tell me you’re fine.”

“Y-You scared me.”

“I know, I know,” She looked over his head to pair standing there looking at her anxiously. They had thought she was going to hurt Louie. Della wasn’t even sure herself what she would have done if she didn’t stop to think for a moment. Despite her efforts to think about others before committing an action she still found herself not doing so. It was in her nature to take charge and not let anyone stand in her way. Ok most cases that is a noble trait to have. Not in the case of frightening her children though. “I will never hurt any of you.”

They approached her, joining in a hug together. She pet each of their heads, before she pleaded to be reunited with her twin. “Please, just...where is Donald? I need to see him, please.”

Louie sniffled loudly and pointed down the hallway. She nodded and then guided them forward. Huey reached out to grab her hand and she allowed it. If he needed her comfort, no matter his age, who was she to deny it? “I did mean to scare you all, ok?”

“We know...” Dewey mumbled from her right side. “Just please don’t...”

“Don’t do it again.” The young duck in the green hoodie was staring at her. Pleading. We love you, but we don’t want you to hurt us. 

“I won’t, I promise that...but, I do want us to do this all together, ok? I guessing you three have already talked to him, but it’s my turn now. And I want us all to be a family, again.”

“He’s been a little weird,” Dewey told her. “He was talking to a watermelon.”

“Is that’s one new slang or a meme that’s come up? I thought I was pretty good at keeping up with those, but I’ve never heard that one.”

“I wish that it was a meme.”

“Uncle Donald was literally talking to a watermelon that he carved a face into.” Huey answered. 

Louie frowned. “For real?”

“Yeah, it was suppppper weird.” Dewey replied.

“Well, I’m sure that Donald had a perfectly good reason for...talking to a piece of fruit?” Della tried thinking of a plausible reason and found now. “Orrrr maybe he’s lost his mind.”

She ceased walking, feeling fright grip her. What if he did lose his mind? What if he was a wild animal or something? She had been alone longer, but Donald never did well when he isolated himself, so whose to say he was insane?  
“He’s still Uncle Donald though.”

Huey squeezed her hand when he saw her distressed expression. He tugged her hand to lead her forward. “He still loves us and he’ll still love you.”

“Of course he is...of course Donald still...” Did he though? She did leave her children for him to raise all on his own though. Was he angry? She would have been. They suddenly heard angry squawking ahead and she laughed, tears pooling in her eyes. “I didn’t think I would miss that sound so much.”

“I didn’t,” Dewey responded while shuddering. “The last I heard that was because I broke one of the windows on the houseboat.”

A moment later they heard Scrooge yelling in return. Della felt tears rolling down her cheeks at the screaming, feeling hope blossom in her chest. It felt like the old times, always arguing. “Or that.”

Louie spoke this time with a groan. “Ugh, I don’t. They’re always at each other’s throats.”

That’s how they were though and the sound of them yelling at one another was music to her ears. It was familiar. It was home to her. They arrived at the end of the hallway and all was abpurtly was quiet. That was usually the make up stage, when they comforted one another after their harsh words. The perfect moment for a reunion. She reached out to open the door and the door handle twisted opened on it’s own. Scrooge stepped out, nearly running into her as he closed the door. For a moment his face was anguished, but the face quickly set itself into neutral when he realized he had an audience. “Why are you lot all out here?”

“I know...I know he’s in there, the boys told me everything. Please, Uncle Scrooge, let me see him.” She was begging, tears in her eyes.

He could never say no to her. She promised her the stars after all, hadn’t he? Except he had done so and she made a foolish mistake when he had allowed her. And that meant that would disturb Donald’s wishes, he couldn’t. He promised Donald his privacy and wouldn’t betray that if it meant he might forgive him for his past actions. He shook his head at her words, explaining why. “He’s angry. Mostly at me, but I think he would be angry with you as well.”

“He’s always angry. Why is that stopping me from seeing him now?”

Scrooge eyed the teenagers surrounding her and spoke to them. “Boys, I know you’re a part of this family, but I don’t think you lot should be here when your mother and I are going to argue.”

“There’s nothing to argue about, let me see my brother.” Her eyes had a fire in them. 

“Della, I promise you, he doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How do you know?” She asked, face scowling. 

“Because, lass, I know how it feels like to not want to talk to a single soul when you’re angry,” He answered, staring at his nephews. They didn’t deserve to see the negative emotions about to be portrayed. “Huey, Louie, Dewey, go run along now.”

They started to leave hesitantly. He would talk to them later. They deserved answers, but in a calm setting. Not with their mother becoming worked up over being denied her reunion. Della wasted no time to continue the conversation. She wanted to see him. “He’s not you though! You can’t understand what he feels like, because he’s not you. You two have always been different.”

“Lass, Donald and I have always been too similar. That’s the problem. We were always at each other’s throats for our flaws, many in which we share. He doesn’t want you to see him at his weakest, I guarantee that. Even if we weren’t the same, I know him. He has always been like this about showing weakness.”

“Let him tell me that then! I would prefer to hear from him myself.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Once she got going, nothing could stop Della Duck. This argument could go in circles for hours if he let it. Their arguments always did last for ages. She would have to see for herself then. Scrooge stepped aside and gestured to the door. “Go ahead then. There’s no stopping you. I should warn you though, you won’t like what you see. He’s changed Della and he’s not doing well right now at all.”

“I wasn’t doing well when I was gone for 10 years, so it can’t be much worse.” Her hand was on the handle, glaring at him.

“Well, Donald is like me in that aspect; he never fared well alone,” He whispered, turning away from her. “I barely survived it and I turned into a cruel old duck as a result...”

“You didn’t have your family then though. But, now you do, and you’re better,” She answered confidently, her tone now patient with her uncle. “A family that Donald will never lose.”

Perhaps Scrooge was wrong though. He usually hated to be, to have others rub it in his face when he was. But, he prayed in that moment, as he walked away, that she was right. Donald had his family in his time of need. Scrooge hadn’t in the many moments he was at his weakest. He thought he would have been grateful to be proven wrong in that moment.  
*

“I said leave me al-“ He sounded shellshocked. Della knew she definitely was. She was staring at the messy reflection of herself, that was gaping openly at her. Half of his beard was gone, the other half lying wildly across his chest and part of his shoulder. Feathers on top of his head were ruffled, longer than they should have been. His eyes were red rimmed, as though he had been crying. The scar across his bill and in between his eyes was a shock, but the fact that he had a stump where his leg used to be was the icing on top of the cake.

“Oh, Donald.” She breathed, unable to move an inch.

Donald’s face turned a hue of red, covering his face as he screamed. “GET OUT!”

“Wha-Why?” Her brain was short circuiting. Didn’t he want to see her? She had wanted to so bad. Her heart had ached for years. She thought about him her every step on the moon. She thought about him as she raised her sons. She thought about him every time they went on an adventure. She thought about him through every therapy session. Donald was starting to repeat the same sentence, volume increasing with intensity. “Donald, calm down!”

He tore his hands from his face and just screamed, no words formed. She startled, backing back out the open door, but she didn’t leave completely. Della had never heard her brother do that before. It was the most painful noise she heard in her life. She tried to yell over his screams, watching his face turning a darker shade. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP-“

Donald screamed louder than her voice and she felt a negative emotion swelling in her chest. His voice had suddenly cracked, but he didn’t cease the noise he made. Della didn’t even know it was possible to let your voice scream that long. She suddenly slammed the door shut, backing back until she hit the hallway wall. She slid down slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. Please, just make the noise stop. Everything was silent now. Della cried. No one came to comfort her. She stayed there all night.  
*

“I left him,” Scrooge whispered aloud, his guilt hanging miserably in the air between him and the therapist. The doctor sat across from him, where he was lounged in the comfy chair. He needed to tell someone or he was afraid it was going to eat him alive. “I left him to die alone on that island.”

“But, you didn’t let him die. You found him.” The therapist simply replied.

“Only because someone else decided to actually look for him, while I did nothing.”

“You didn’t do nothing though. You did try for a number of months. But, then you decided to move on, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself to that sole purpose like last time, Scrooge.”

“...a part of me didn’t give up though.”

“I think after the number of times you’ve called me in the middle of the night asking for help so you wouldn’t hire another detective, I might be perfectly aware.”

Scrooge glared at him. “Just because you’re my therapist, doesn’t mean I’m going to let you disrespect me.”

The therapist smiled at the grumpy old duck. “I mean no disrespect. I thought it might lighten the mood for you. You desperately need that in dark times that you often dwell on.”

“I know, I know. I can’t stop dwelling on them often times though.”

“Well, they are called instructive thoughts for a reason, and as I have said in the past distraction is key.”

“I remember! None of that changes the facts though...his own family gave up. I gave up on him.”

“You could view it as abandonment or view it was an act of self preservation. You shouldn’t help others if it means destroying yourself in the process.”

“Well, how do I tell the difference between that being selfish then? Even when I barely had a penny to my name, I was asked for money. When I would tell them no, I was called a penny pincher.”

“Some people aren’t understanding to your own dilemmas. They might lash out in the only way they know how as a result: with cruel words or actions. As to how being able to tell the difference? That’s hard to say honestly. In my opinion, as long as you made an effort to care, then you aren’t being selfish.”

“Aye, that’s all fine and dandy, but sometimes I don’t want to help.”

“Then, that’s your choice. If you feel guilty for it, change your actions. If you don’t, continue on. You have to make that discretion yourself,” He wrote something on his clipboard and continued on. ”This friend that searched for Donald though. Tell me more about his involvement?”

“Don’t be daft! He’s not a friend, he’s just a dolton! A bairn with a schoolboy crush!”

“While I am not an expert on a few of your choice words, they sound to be a very negative viewpoint of this friend. Also, didn’t you say they were thousands of years old?”

“Aye! That’s the equivalent of being a young one for their lot though.”

“Well, despite his equivalent age, wouldn’t that still mean that he would have more experience with the world than you?”

“Experience?! That bairn has-“

“What do you know that’s he done? If you don’t know him well, perhaps he has another side of his life he has never shared with you before. And he won’t show it to you, because you shun his every action.”

Scrooge thought about the fact that Storkules wasn’t as much like Zeus as he thought, but quickly banished that idea. “I don’t need to see any of it!”

“But, Donald cares about him though doesn’t he? And this demigod spent months searching for him. Wouldn’t that suggest he cares as well? Shouldn’t that be enough of a motivator to try to tolerate their presence?”

Scrooge fiddled with his thumbs. He had been called out and couldn’t deny it any longer. “...perhaps.”

“Well, that’s what you should do by the time is see you next then. You should make an effort to reach out. You were kind enough to allow him to stay in your mansion in his time of need and now I think you should simply get to know him better. You don’t have to like him, but I believe putting in an effort to know someone better before judging them is always a good idea.”

“I suppose...what should I do about Donald though? It is...painful to know he isn’t forgiving me...it’s like when he couldn’t over Della all over again...but this time it’s because of what I did to him myself. Last time he didn’t forgive me for 10 years! What if it’s longer next time?”

“I obviously can’t speak for Donald and I can’t predict his actions. I believe there are steps you can take to perhaps give him an idea that you are sorry and that you do care. Being marooned and isolated for a year is not an easy thing to get over and not everyone reacts that same. Della’s experience with isolation and her reactions will surely be different than her brother’s. The first step I would recommend is therapy for Donald. You said he had anger management? Does that therapist deal with other topics as well?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. I do know that he’s a military therapist though, so I would imagine so.”

“Yes, militarily therapists typically are able to deal with other subjects. Donald was in the military, correct?”

“Aye, the Navy. You wouldn’t want to have Donald as a patient?”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t. I do specialize in families, but seeing as he already has a therapist that is qualified to hear any military secrets it might be best for him to stick with his original one. That is entirely up to him though.”

“Well, I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to get Donald back to him.”

“It might be though. Trauma has a way of-“

“Trauma?”

“Well, yes. Isolation and unwillingly surviving in a wilderness setting would be considered trauma. I’m saying that he might make rash decisions without thinking them through or react in other unexpected ways. He might fight having professional help as a result, for whatever reason.”

“Well, he was the one to look for help the first time, so how would it be any different?”

“Trauma changes the brain’s chemistry, physically and psychologically. You’ve seen Della’s reaction in crowded spaces. Her panic was a result there being too many people in her space at once. She’s obviously still a people person and loves to talk to others, but the idea of so many people around her make her feel unnerved. She didn’t have anyone to talk to for the better part of a decade and lost the social skills necessary.”

“I thought you couldn’t talk about your other patient’s issues?”

“Only if the client I’m speaking to doesn’t already know and wasn’t given explicit written permission from the other to do so. Della has signed a release to allow you to know and to share that with any of her family members since it happened with you all as witnesses to her struggles.”

“Ah, I see.”

“As far as what you should do personally for your nephew? Show Donald you love him. Support him when he wants or needs it. Don’t baby him though. Always asked permission to help him and respect if he tells you no. If it’s obvious he’s struggling you may intervene, but do be prepared for the anger that will likely come after doing so.”

“He’s stubborn though. He would never allow me to help him.”

“You would be surprised, then again I could be wrong. How would you react personally if someone was always asking about your health when you didn’t want to share? I’m sure you wouldn’t react well to it.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Another word of caution though: again, this is different for each person, but there are things you should watch out for that you need to either immediately intervene or call a professional for help.”

Scrooge gave him a bewildered look. “What kind of things?”

“Well, first, unnecessary violence towards others. If you see him treating your niece, nephews, or friends poorly in that regard, you put a stop to it. That includes harm towards you.”

“I can’t even imagine the lad doing that.” While Donald was always angry, he only aimed it towards others when they were a threat towards him or his family. 

“He may be unaware that he is. Those that panic at times have fear that manifests itself in different ways. He might physically lash out at one of you without meaning it.”

“Well, that’s never happened before.”

“Doesn’t mean that it can’t, Scrooge. Another thing you should look out for is reckless behavior. Any crazy stunts that seem out of character should be ceased as well. Those that are near him the most can usually identify what’s normal behavior and what’s not. There is one final thing to keep an eye out for and it’s a difficult topic for anyone.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I’m not saying he will, but if there are signs that Donald is purposefully hurting himself, don’t hesitate to call 911. That includes any plans of suicide.”

“Donald? Suicide? He would never do that!”

“You don’t say never. Anyone that can feel that anyone if pushed the wrong way. You would know after all, wouldn’t you, Scrooge?”

Scrooge grimaced at the words. The words had struck a cord in him, leaving him defensive. “That’s just cruel now.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. I was just clarifying that you should know personally that anyone can feel that way. And you should also know that you can always stop feeling that way as well. Tell me, Scrooge, when was the last time you thought about suicide?”  
*

“Donald, lad, I’m so sorry...” Scrooge was holding the flag in his hands, watching the waves brush up against the boardwalk. The funeral had long since ended and he insisted on being alone to mourn for his nephew. They had all respected his desire to be alone and he was glad, because he needed the privacy. 

His hands shook, tears filled his vision as he watched the waves, thinking about drowning himself. He couldn’t allow himself to feel this way about one of his children again. Scrooge was left feeling like he lost a son and didn’t know how to move on from here. He failed the last time he tried this, after losing Della, but he couldn’t fail again. He had always failed the attempts to end his life. He wouldn’t this time.

He had just got his daughter back though. His hands began to tremble from his thoughts. He had the boys to think about. He couldn’t see anything through the blur in his eyes. Webby would lose her hero. The wind was brushing up against his feathers. Launchpad would lose another member of his family. His legs felt like jello. Bentina would lose an old friend. He gasped out a breath, failing to hold in his loud weeping.

He stepped away from the edge of the pier.  
*

“Scrooge?”

“Donald’s funeral.”

“That’s good that it’s been months now. You disappeared for a moment on me though. What is your number?”

“A 7.” He gasped out.

“Ok...usually I wouldn’t push this, but I think it’s important to say it out loud for yourself. Where did you go?”

“The last time I thought about it.”

“What brought you back from not doing so?”

“Me family.”

“That’s good. Family is always good motivator to stay alive. Realistically, I would like you to live for yourself, but anything actually works. Even the smallest reason to live is important. Do you have other motivators?”

“...keeping my enemies from overtaking my city.”

“Though spite is usually a negative motivator, I believe this to be the only case which spite is a good one to hold on to. What else?”

“The boys’ high school graduation.”

“More.”

“Me money.”

“More.”

“Me first dime.”

“More.”

“...those little chocolate truffles that Bentina makes every Christmas.”

“More.”

“Errr, the Sunday paper?”

“More.”

“Good God, how many more do you want?”

“As many as you can think of. There should be an unending list of reasons why you should stay alive, because there’s an unending amount of reasons why suicide is never the solution.”

“That’s...” He couldn’t find the words he needed to describe how he felt about those words.

“Scrooge, I have another activity for you to do. I want you to write a list of reasons why to stay alive. You don’t have to share them with anyone, but keep a journal, so that when you do need a reminder you can just look at a list you’ve made for yourself.”

He picked at a stray piece of string, hanging from the plush chair underneath him. “I suppose I could do that...sounds easier than making friends with that demigod at least.”

The therapist smiled at him. “I’m sure it will be.”  
*

“And how did you feel when your mother grabbed you?”

“...scared,” Louie confessed, fiddling with one of his sleeves. The therapist waited for him to elaborate, tapping the pen against his clipboard patiently. “It almost felt like I didn’t know her.”

“And perhaps you didn’t in that moment. That wasn’t a mother being presented to you. That was a sister looking desperately for her brother. How would you feel if Huey or Dewey were missing and you were being held back from being reunited?”

“...pretty mad, I guess. I would probably do anything to get to them.”

“I’m sure any of us would. You understand her reasons then. But, it wasn’t ok for your mother to do that and she shouldn’t do it again.”

“What if she does though?”

“Then, that would be a moment to turn to another trusted adult. This isn’t a topic to keep hidden either. We should speak about this with your family during our next joint session.”

“...would we be adopted by Uncle Scrooge if that happened again?”

“If you would like to. I’m certain your mother would object though.”

“No, I mean, is she not allowed to be our mother if she did that again?”

“I know what you meant. But, as this was an isolated incident as far as I can see, and not an repetitive problem, there shouldn’t need to be outside interference. Unless there’s more you haven’t told me?”

“There isn’t. That was the first time I had seen her like that.”

“Ok, but it is important it doesn’t happen again though. I insist you tell me again if it does.”

“I would.” Louie didn’t want to, but he wasn’t one to let others have their way with him. And, he knew he shouldn’t suffer in silence any more. He doesn’t realize until later though that the doctor have avoided a direct answer to his question about them being taken anyway, if it were to happen again. He cursed himself for not realizing earlier, but now that he did know he felt a grin spread across his face. “That sneaky con man!”

Louie thought about how the therapist had been able to maneuver the conversation from him having to provide a direct approach to Louie’s fear. If the duck in the green wasn’t so adamant on pursuing Scrooge’s line of business, he would have thought being a therapist would a fun career to pursue. However, he dreamed of the day he could swim in the riches he had inherited instead. 

Lately though...he wanted something more. After scheming for so long on how to make a quick buck, he had begun to grow bored. It seemed to be the same thing each time. Think of some half-brained scheme, put it into play, reap the riches that were made easy. He was starting to think this was what Glomgold did everyday. Louie needed something to challenge him, he was beginning to realize. His brain craved the need to put his skills to better use.

Louie thought about the way he saw things that others weren’t able to. He had even realized he could view that way about others as well. He was good at telling someone else’s emotions. He could tell when they were happy or sad or even hiding away. He could tell when they lied. The more he thought about that, the more his mind drifted to therapy. The doctor seemed to always be analyzing them, deciding what their next move should be. 

Perhaps being a therapist might be worth losing out on the riches, if it meant that he could tell others what they should do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! First off, sorry that it took a week for an update, as my life has been pretty hectic lately. I do try my best to write when I have free time, but I do have several other things going on in my life, so they will be spread out at times. I have a few notes for this chapter: First of all, I don’t think Della would be a bad parent in this story by any means, I just decided to give her an extreme reaction to showcase how she doesn’t think before she acts, ie grabbing Louie and scaring him. On the flip side of that coin, what appears to be Donald’s irrational anger when she tried to greet him will be explained in further detail at a different time, but he does definitely not hate her. The final note I have is I believe Scrooge has an almost obsessive behavior when it came to trying to save Della in the cartoon and I thought I should expand on that and really explain how it’s not ok to wear yourself down for the sake of others. While I do believe going above and beyond to help those that are in need, you should also make sure you’re not sacrificing your emotional wellbeing(or any part of your life) to do so. As someone that’s spent many years trying to help everyone that I knew needed it at the expense of my own health, I really think it’s important for anyone to know the dangers that lye in it. I’ll try to update when I can and since Christmas is coming up I will likely find some time to work more on this story. As always Kudos and feedback are definitely appreciated. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please help him...”
> 
> “I vow to do my best, Friend Della.”

Strokules stared out of the hallway’s window, observing the moonlight spilling across the front lawn of the mansion. He stared up at the moon herself, the stars twinkling beyond it. He sighed out a breath, voice a hush in the night air. “Selene...I will return.”

The moon seemed to brighten, his sister somehow being able to hear his words. He laid his head in the windowsill, closing his eyes to bask in the night light. He could constantly feel the pull from the outside world, calling to him. He could always feel the elements of the sky calling to him. Recently, he felt his father’s the most, each time he linger on the memory of one person in particular. One he hadn’t felt as strong as he had in the past few months. “Mother...”

He opened his eyes after a moment, pushing himself from the windowsill. He whispered a good night to his dear sister, heading towards the bathroom that Donald had been at earlier that night. He had heard him and Scrooge screaming at each other from outside on the houseboat certain that it hadn’t ended well. In fact, knowing the pair, Donald had probably insisted on being able to do everything on his own, and Scrooge had retreated in anger. He was quite certain Donald would be right where he left him.

He had entered the mansion, confident he would need to assist his friend. The stork had been distracted when he noticed his sister had brightened the moon in greeting, but now he needed to go to his friend. He was surprised however to see Della lying on the floor directly outside the door, sleeping away as though it was a normal place to be passed out at this hour. 

He turned his head to the door, thinking for a moment. Should he deal with Della or Donald first? After a moment, he decided to chose which was easier. He lifted Della with no effort and she continued to doze peacefully. The stork held her laid out in his arms, carrying her down the hallway through the darkness. He soon was able to quietly push open the door, entering her room. The stork laid her out on the bed. He thought what would be best for a moment, before removing her hat and googles and setting them upon the side table. Strokules spread the fuzzy blanket across her still form, before beginning to retreat from the room.

“Please help him...” Mumbled her sleepy voice, her eyes partly open as she watched him take his leave.

Storkules turned to her briefly, feeling a smile spread across his face. “I vow to do my best, Friend Della.”

He gently shut the door, returning to the bathroom once more. When he cracked open the door it was quiet, no response to what he had done. While he couldn’t see completely in the dark, his slight glowing gave off a bit of light to guide his way. “Friend Donald?”

Storkules stepped further in, before spotting the huddled form of his friend. He wasn’t quite certain if Donald was asleep or not, until he heard his toneless voice. “Why are you still here?”

“Your uncle allowed me to temporarily reside in your home.”

He raised his face from his knees, eyes barely seen from the slight light the demigod produced. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“Perhaps he decided to have a change of heart due to my current plight.”

Donald frowned at him. “Plight? What plight?”

He glanced behind him nervously, seeing the pale moonlight spilling into the room from the open door behind him. He knew Zeus wouldn’t be happy to hear him speaking about the incident more than once in the same night. He decided to stick with the abridged version. “Father has banished me from Ithaquack.”

“What? What for?”

“Father did not allow me to assist with the incoming invasion. I disobeyed and did so anyways.” There was a rumbling noise in the background and he gulped painfully.

Donald appeared conflicted at the information. “...but, why do you want to help me so much? Why would you risk being banished for me?”

“You are my dearest friend. Pray tell how else would I show my gradiutude to you otherwise?”

The duck reburied his face into his wings crossed over his knees. “Who said you were my best friend?”

“Not a soul. I conveyed that you were mine through and thorough. However, I can accept if I am not yours.”

The duck sounded frustrated. “That sounds like a confession.”

Storkules felt his cheeks heat up. “A-As it should, my Donald.”

“...Strokules, do you love me?” Donald’s voice had returned to that tone that lacked emotion.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest at the words. His face had never felt as burning hot as it did in this moment he was asked. The demigod could never lie to his friend, no matter his feelings of nerves. “I-I could not deny so.”

“...are you in love with me?”

Storkules felt his love gush and overflow as he finally told Donald. “D-Does Aphrodite deny that she has an infinite amount of suitors that fawn over her beauty?”

He had said it. He had confessed his love. He awaited a response, but Donald was quiet. He didn’t like that. It gave him an ill feeling at the thought of not hearing a word in reply. What if his response was unkindly? He couldn’t bear the thought. After a minute of silence though, he finally received a response. “Storkules, I’m not in love with you.”

His heart dropped at the words, before accepting what he had been told. The stork had suspected as much and was gracious to be turned down so patiently. Donald sounded almost guilty though and the demigod wouldn’t stand for that. “As I have expressed, I may be yours, but you are not mine. As long as I occupy your willing company, I will be pleased being what you desire me to.”

Donald laughed, sounding cruel as he did so. The demigod was uncertain about all of the sudden changes in mood he had received. “And, how can you love someone that doesn’t love you back?”

“By being able to breath the very air as they. By being able to bask in the glory they present in my presence. By being able to listen to the voice of silk brush upon my ears.” He had sat down next to his friend, reaching out to cover his large hand over Donald’s as he waxed poetry.

The duck sounded watery, as though on the verge of tears. “...I’m sorry, that I don’t love you back.” 

“You are perfect as you are. If you were anything but what look you wanted to be, then you would have to apologize.”

Donald was hugging his friend tightly, rocking back and forth as he spoke. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...”

“You are acceptable as you are.”

“I’m sorry for wanting your comfort!” He croaked loudly in response to the kind words.

“I am honored that you would choose me to allow you comfort through your time of turmoil.”

Donald was allowed to weep against him, releasing all of the negative pent up energy he held inside. The demigod consulted him throughout his breakdown and waited for him to become calm. After a few minutes Donald sounded less hysterical. “...i-is she still out there? I heard her crying earlier.”

“I retired Friend Della to rest.”

“S-She saw me before I looked normal again.”

“It is dreadful to be seen before one is ready to be seen. Though, I am confident that she desires to encounter you no matter how you appear.”

“...I...I don’t want her to see me like this. I can’t be seen like this in front of her. I need to look...normal. Please, can you help me stand? I want to finish shaving.”

“As you wish, my Donald,” He was already helping him stand, allowing him to hobble to the sink. Donald cling to the countertop, leaning forward so that he wouldn’t fall as Storkules picked up the tipped over chair. He guided his friend to the seat and allowed him to collapse onto it. “You are perfect no matter your state.”

Storkules flicked on the room’s light as Donald stared at his reflection in the mirror with a face that Storkules couldn’t describe. It was heartbreaking though and made his chest ache at the sight. The words were worse though. “I don’t feel perfect I feel...broken.”

The demigod didn’t know how to make Donald see him the way he did.  
*

“You were right,” Della admitted, wing flung over her eyes as she spoke. “He didn’t want me to see him.”

“I didn’t want to be right you know,” Scrooge answered from the doorway of her bedroom, staring at her still form lying in bed. “I would have rather been wrong.”

She raised her wing to stare at him. “You of all people would want to be wrong? I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“You better shut your bill, if you know what’s good for you, lass.” He rolled his eyes, regretting telling her what he did now.

Della found herself laughing, though it sounded hollow even to his ears. Her face was hidden once more into her feathers. She could hear his approach, but made no movement in response. She did speak though. “Did you take Louie to his therapy session yesterday?”

“Aye.”

“Did you go to yours, too?”

“Aye. You do know I can take care of myself.”

“Not when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Well, I’ve only recently gotten better at that. When you go as long as you do isolating yourself from your family and believing they couldn’t care less about you, you become a bit cold.”

“Some of us never did stop caring though. Grandpa Ferguson never did. I still can’t believe he gave you your first dime though and I won’t even be able to say anything to him about it for at least another two years.”

“Aye. When the time comes though you could join us on the treasure hunt. The boys wanted to.”

“Ohhhh, I have something better to do when we go back.”

“Is this related to Donald crying about him losing his hat last time he was there?”

She sat up suddenly, a michevious grin on her face. “Of course not. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Really? Because the boys said they found his hat in the old catacombs.”

“What? I wonder how that got there?” She shrugged. “ I guess we’ll never know. It must be those McDuck ghosts.”

“Ugh, Mummy always did like to fill your head with all that nonsense about spirits.”

“Uncle Scrooge, we have literally fought ghosts like a million times. And aren’t you friends with those Christmas guys?”

“I’m not denying there’s spirits out there; I’m just denying that our ancestors are haunting Dismal Downs. I’ve never seen any evidence to suggest otherwise. Have you?”

“Well, no, but I did hear that dog, remember?”

“Which I still say is impossible, considering there’s a spell that keeps everything out most of the time!”

“I’m telling you I did! I may have not seen anything, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything there. I know what I heard!”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “You are absolutely ridiculous, lass. There’s nothing at Dismal Downs, other than Mummy and that grump I call father.”

“Fine! I’ll prove you wrong then!”

“Oh? Is this a bet you’re wagering?”

“Yes, it is! We’ll see between the two of us who is actually right about this!”

Scrooge coyly smiled at her. “Perhaps we could raise the stakes beyond that?”

“Ohhhh-ho-ho, I have the chance to make you do whatever I want?”

“I think you mean I will. How about if I win, you have to be Launchpad’s co-pilot for a year.”

“What? No way! He’s always taking orders from me! And still doesn’t know how to fly a plane!”

“He’s getting better though, better enough that he can do it with less accidents now and you know it! Besides, I’m getting pretty tired of hearing him beg you to be the main pilot again. That’s all he talks about when he drives me around nowadays. You do know he pilots for that Darkwing fellow, right?”

“Drake puts his life in Launchpad’s hands every day because he’s a literal daredevil. I’d much rather not risk my safety the way he’s been.”

“Says the one that took the rocket to outer space.”

“Oh, shut up! Do you know what? How about if I win you have to sponsor Darkwing Duck as one of your superhero’s.”

“What?! That lunatic!? No! Besides, I already have Gizmoduck.”

“Which is great! Fenton is a fantastic hero, buttttt everyone in the city knows his identity, which is kinda a problem.”

“Well, not everyone.”

“All off the city’s villains call him by his first name to his face and at least one of them knows his exact address. Bushroot was literally gardening with him in his mom’s backyard last time I went over.”

“What? Since when does Fenton garden?”

“Really? That’s what’s bothering you? Not the fact that a super villain is hanging out with him?!”

“Della, he gets along well with everyone, which is the point. It makes it easier to calm down a fight with minimal damage. That Darkwing fella though...he costs Duckburg and St. Canard thousands in damage. And he creeps around in the night. Plus he’s always causing chaos! Also, isn’t it bit weird that a former wannabe actor is gallivanting around in a suit like that with no protection?”

“He was a stunt devil! He knows what to do by this point and has Launchpad as his back up. Fenton literally made him a smoke gun! He’s been fighting bad guys for the past two years now. Uncle Scrooge, it’s 2020! It’s time for a change!” Della was standing on her bed, hands on her hips.

He groaned. “Fine! But, that’s only if you win! And it’s pretty clear who the winner here will be.”

“Yeah, it is.” 

Scrooge narrowed his eyes at her, knowing that tone. “...we are clear that it will be me, right?”

“In your dreams! Pretty soon Scrooge McDuck will be forced to work with Darkwing Duck.”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Believe what you will, lass. In the end I always win though, because I’m smarter than the smarties and-“

“-tougher than the toughies. Yeah, I know, I know,” She finished as she hopped off the bed.

He deflated slightly, scowling at her. “What did I say about interrupting me when I’m saying that?”

“Please, Uncle Scrooge. I’m not 13 anymore! I can say what I want.” She had headed over the room’s adjoining bathroom, pulling out her toothbrush from the medicine cabinet.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still respect your elders.” Scrooge answered as he followed her to the bathroom, standing in the entryway. She was swishing water in her mouth, having brushed her teeth, and spat out the water. She reached for her hairbrush, attempting to calm her wild hair. 

“You know I’ve never been capable of doing that.”

“Aye and that has always been the problem. Your brother and you always had to question authority.”

She paused in her brushing, staring at him. “...speaking of him, did you check where Donald was last night?”

“Last I saw, he was in the bathroom.”

She glared at him, slamming down her hairbrush. “You never came back did you? If you had, you would have known I sat outside the bathroom half the night waiting for him!”

Scrooge sputtered. “He told me to leave him alone! So I did!”

“He can’t even walk right now! And he’s stubborn! Did you not think that maybe he would sit in there all night!?”

“Well, is he still in there?! I don’t see you doing anything about that!”

“No, because Strokules helped him!”

“What?! You let that-“ Scrooge paused, fury evident in his face, before he surprisingly calmed down. He promised the therapist to make an effort. At the very least he owed it to Donald to make an attempt. “...did he bring him to his room?”

She appeared surprise that this hadn’t caused a fight. “I don’t really know. I kinda fell asleep.”

“Why would you do that?!” The older duck exploded, throwing out the idea of being calm. The stork had a crush on Donald and would probably take advantage of him being vulnerable again.

“Because I trust Strokules to take care of Donald. I don’t know why you don’t trust him, but he has always treated Donald well. Just as Selene has to me. You think just because you can’t get along with a God, that the rest of us can’t! I don’t know how you can’t understand, but that won’t stop any of us from being each other’s friends.”

Scrooge was taken back by her passionate rant. He had said he would try and here he was already going back on his word. He felt guilty that he had barely tried to do so. “I...I know, lass. It’s just...Zeus is a piece of work and I’m just afraid Storkules would be the same as well.”

“If you got to know him, you would know that he’s nothing like his father,” Scrooge appeared startled at the words, though she wasn’t certain why. She didn’t realize that he started to think that to himself before she had said so. “Why don’t you to Donald’s room and see for yourself then? I bet you he’s there, perfectly unharmed!”

She stomped away after this words, slamming her bedroom door in a fit of anger as she stormed away. He spoke to himself, alone in the bathroom. “I...I suppose I should do that...”  
*

Scrooge cracked open the door, gazing into the bedroom. While the curtains where firmly shut, a sliver of light spilled into the room, washing over Storkules’ glowing figure. He sat in a large chair near Donald’s bed, leaning his face up against his fist, as he slept peacefully. Donald laid in the bed on his side, beard now miraculously gone. He was sleeping with a scrunched up face, a low snoozing noise coming from his bill.

The demigod blinked his eyes open, as though he sensed the older duck was there, and made eye contact with Scrooge. He shot up like a rocket, smiling awkwardly. He was acting like he had been caught red handed. His voice was a messy whisper. “I apologize for being in his presence in such a vulnerable state. I vow on the River Stynx that I have done no harm-“

Scrooge held up a hand to silence his apologies, before waving him closer. Strokules appeared hesitant, before approaching the older duck with obvious fear etched on his face. He was frightened of being yelled at, as Scrooge had done yesterday. He could put his worries to rest though, because it was clear that Donald was alright. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Y-You truly are not?”

He knew the next part would be difficult for him to willingly express, but he needed to push himself out of his comfort. “No, I wanted to say...well, I wanted to thank you. I should have checked in with him later in the night, but I was...not in a right state of mind yesterday.”

Storkules was noticeably shocked by the answer. “Well, you are most welcome, Friend Scrooge, but really I did not do much.”

“My nephew is home. I would say that was doing something.” If it wasn’t for the stork, they would have continued to believe Donald was dead, and he would have lived the rest of his life alone on that island.

“Well, I exhausted less than a fraction of my efforts. My performanice was lesser than my abilities.” Storkules appeared uncomfortable but the words, grimacing slightly.

The more Scrooge actually listened, the more Storkules seemed to be embarrassed when he was complimented on his efforts. Was he really this unconfident about himself and the older duck had never noticed until recently? “I’m sure you did your best. Why can’t you accept that you did a...”

Storkules stared at him, blinking slowly. Was he really this dense? He hated having to say it after disliking the demigod for so long, he felt there was no other way than the direct approach to say so. “I’m giving you a compliment, lad.”

“Oh.” 

He gave him a bewildered look at the simple reply. He had never heard the demigod be as quiet as he was in this moment. What was going on? “You’re acting mighty weird. I’ve never heard you so quiet before.”

“...Friend Donald’s state of mind has distressed me greatly.”

The stork was staring at his nephew with concern in his eyes and it reminded him of the face he made when Donald told them that they killed Mickey Melon. He needed to know what it meant. “Storkules, I have a serious question for you.”

“What is it?” His eyes didn’t stray.

“Are you in love with my nephew?”

“Does Helios not guide his chariot every morning towards the horizon for light to spill across the land?” His voice was soft, the sound of love evidently clear. He didn’t seem to be fully aware of anything else other than Donald Duck.

Scrooge felt very much out of his element now. He didn’t believe he had ever fallen in love with someone, not in the way the demigod had. Goldie had probably been the closet he had felt to it, but she was only a dream. She was a wisp of imagination in the corner of your dreams, vanishing before she would allow you to connect with her. Goldie wouldn’t allow Scrooge to fall in love with her, so he truly didn’t know what true love felt like.

He couldn’t imagine how that could feel to another. Who was he to judge another for feeling the way that they did when he couldn’t even understand the feeling himself? Despite the fact that every part of him was saying not to, he found himself feeling as though he could accept the fact that Storkules was in love with his nephew. He was about to ask something even more difficult for himself though. “And...Donald does, too?”

“Nay...I am agreeable to be what he desires myself to be though: a brethren in arms.”

Scrooge was beyond words. The longer he talked to Storkules, the more he realized he had severely misjudged him. The older duck felt guilt creeping up upon him and very much wanted to correct his treatment of the other. He thought for a moment, trying to pull up a shred of advice from the therapist. There had to be something that he been told that could help in this moment. It must have shown in his face that he as struggling to come up with something to say, because the stork smiled wide at him. “Friend Scrooge, reciprocation is nonessential for myself to be content.”

“Are you telling me that or yourself?” Scrooge found himself asking.

“Storkules?” Came a mumbled voice from the bed on the opposite side of the room. It was clear that the room was dark enough that Donald couldn’t see Scrooge yet and the demigod was standing in front of him as well. The older duck wasn’t going to face Donald at the moment though. He pressed a finger to his bill, vowing the stork to silence, and slipped out of the room quietly.

Scrooge thought about the rest of his family and how it was clear that they needed a family session soon. Perhaps it would be best to call the therapist’s office so they could arrange one for all of them. They hadn’t needed one all together for at least two months, but as far as family events this was major. Perhaps it would be best to wait to include Donald though, as he might need to decide if he was comfortable enough to be with them. 

He headed to the boy’s bedroom, expecting the triplets to be in there. He needed to check on how they were all doing. When he popped his head in though, there strangely wasn’t a single soul. He frowned, wondering where they could be. He headed downstairs, peeking into the dining room and didn’t see anyone. He did smell food however and headed into the kitchen to be surprised to see Bentina making breakfast. “I didn’t know you were back. I though you and Webby had gone on a trip back home while we were gone.”

“Oh, we had. Until Dewey texted Webby that you all found Donald, and decided not to tell us.” She replied, flipping over the pancake in the pan a bit too forcibly.

He cringed. “Oh, I knew I forgot something.”

She flipped off the stove, whirling around with the spatula pointed in his face. “You have the tendency to forget that we are part of your family as well!”

“Bentina, I promise you that I know that very well. It’s just been...a crazy past two days! I haven’t really had the time to sort anything yet!”

“I think you could have at least found the time to at least shoot me a text, like Dewey did for Webby.” She was stacking a few pancakes onto a plate and dished out a slice of butter on top. 

“I know I should have, but things have just been a little complicated. Donald is legally...he’s legally...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Bentina sighed, turning back to him. “Scrooge, I wish you would have told me, because I care about him, too...and I wanted to apologize.”

He frowned at her. “Whatever for?”

“I...didn’t believe you when you thought Donald was alive and I should have. If I had it my way, I would have apparently left him to fend for himself on some island God knows where.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I was the one decided to le-“ He paused, eyes widening. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just...realized something.” He answered distantly. He had in that moment. It was exactly what the therapist had been trying to tell him. Scrooge was continuing to blame himself, even though it wasn’t his fault. He only saw it when Bentina was feeling guilty about her lack of belief. This wasn’t his fault, anymore than it was her’s. No one could have predicted that Donald would have ended up on the moon or even that he would survive an out of control rocket ship hurtling back to Earth. 

While he did wish he hadn’t given up so early on, he knew that it truly wasn’t himself solely to blame. Donald would never see it that way though. Scrooge had always been the one at fault for everything in his nephew’s eyes. He didn’t know how to change that. All he wanted was for Donald to forgive him for all his past mistakes. He would do everything in his power to do so. While Scrooge wasn’t at fault, he did contribute to the fact Donald was left alone on an island. 

“Well, I don’t know what you realized, but I would appreciate if you gave this to Donald.” 

He was handed a plate of pancakes, which he stared at. “I don’t know if I can. Donald is mighty mad at me. He doesn’t want to see me at all right now.”

“And, as usual you’re going to allow that to happen? You do remember what happened last time, correct? He didn’t speak to you for over a decade.”

“But, if he doesn’t want to talk to me, how do I even get through to him?”

“That’s up to him, Scrooge. But, maybe instead of moping around-“

“I do not mope!”

“-you could actually get in there and make an effort.”

He grumbled to himself, about how pushy she was. Scrooge was heading out of the kitchen with a plate of pancakes though, returning to Donald’s bedroom. Though he was nervous, he knew Bentina was right, and he needed to face his nephew. When he arrived though, he saw that someone else was already standing by the door.

“Webby? What are you doing, lass?”

“Oh, hi, Uncle Scrooge. I was just...” She was playing with a piece of her hair. It had grown longer, now brushing up against her shoulders. “You know, hanging out?”

“Are you sure you weren’t wanting to see Donald?”

“Well, maybe...we all thought he was gone though and now he’s suddenly back and I’m kinda...nervous? Huey said Donald might be having some kinda of survivor mood that he was stuck in or something.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I do think Donald would enjoy your company...” He stared at the plate of pancakes in his hands and made a decision. “Why don’t you bring these in to him? I’m certain that he’s starving by this point.”

“Granny’s pancakes? That’s perfect! No one can resist the fluffy delicious taste of breakfast!” She took the plate from him, but still appeared hesitant. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore though? I believed Granny when she said he wasn’t alive anymore.”

“Lass, we all believed he was gone. I doubt he would fault any of you for it,” Donald would fault Scrooge, as he always did. “I guarantee he would be more than happy to see you.”

She beamed at him. “I hope so! Did you want to come in, too?”

“I think I will later, Webby.”

“If you insist, Uncle Scrooge!” She was knocking and opening the door to the bedroom. He heard the low voice of Storkules, bellowing in greeting to her, as headed down the hallway. 

Scrooge needed to take care of a few other things. His conversation with Bentina had reminded him that Donald Duck was still considered to be dead and he needed to correct that. He pulled out his phone and glanced down to see a text message from Launchpad. “Hi, mr. mcdee, sorry for missing your call, there was a thing with DW and this crazy new villain did you need help with something”

He groaned at the butchered text page. How did all these younger folk text so carelessly? Scrooge responded, typing slowly. “I need you to come pick me up at the mansion. Donald is alive and I have to do some paperwork to show that he is.”

He had headed out to the entry room, sitting down into the plush chair Donald occupied yesterday. His phone started to buzz and he answered it. “Hello?”

“DONALD IS ALIVE?!” Launchpad screamed in his ear.

He pulled his phone a good distance away from his ear. “What did I say about the yelling?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But, how is Donald alive?! When did you find out?! Is he ok? Is he at the mansion? I thought he went to the moon?”

“I don’t know to the first question, we found out yesterday when we found him, physically yes, yes again, and yes for a third time.”

There was the sound of fumbling and he heard a sleepy groan in the background and a voice he recognized. “...what’s-huh?”

Launchpad sounded muffled, but Scrooge clearly could hear the response. “...go back to sleep, babe. Mr. Mcdee just needs help with something...make sure to ice your eye when you wake up, DW.”

“...mhm-ok...love you...”

“Love you, too,” Launchpad sounded closer to the phone again, slightly louder. “I’m in St. Canard still, so it’s going to be at least 40 minutes, maybe half an hour is if I speed.”

“There’s no rush, Launchpad. I would prefer not to have to pay for the damage you cause for all of your speeding, again.”

“No, I’ll be there quick! This is important! I’ll be there soon.” He heard the roar of an a motorcycle’s engine come to life in the background.

“Launchpad-“ The phone was hung up before he could finish protesting. He rolled his eyes, taking note to have his receptionist set up payment to the city of St. Canard and Duckburg for the damages Launchpad was sure to incur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, happy Christmas Eve and Happy Hanukkah to everyone that celebrates either of these holidays!
> 
> I honestly don’t have many notes for this chapter. The one I do have though is that I wholeheartedly ship Darkwing Duck with Launchpad McQuack. I have good news too: Next update will be soon as I have time to write out another chapter during the next few days. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One trigger warning for this chapter: a flashback. Starts directly during the lightning strike in the front yard.

Donald was sitting on the bed as he rubbed his leg stump forcibly. It appeared angry and red, the scarring from where he had removed it standing out to the demigod. “My Donald, are you in pain?”

“Piece of...” He was mumbling to himself, before responding to the concerned demigod. “Not that bad.”

“Do you require medical assistance? That appears serious.”

“I don’t really...” He seemed to be frozen in place, eyes blown wide. After a moment he nodded. “I forgot that I can use...painkillers now.”

“I will fetch them for you.” The stork headed to the adjoining bathroom in Donald’s bedroom, opening the medicine cabinet. He stared at the few bottles, unsure as what there meanings were. He had never heard of the many labels that sat before him. Ithaquack didn’t possess the same amenities and tended to use more natural forms of healing. In the end he grabbed them all and returned to laid them out onto Donald’s bed. 

The duck raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know what any of this is, do you?”

He hated to appear foolish in front of his friend, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he didn’t know. He smiled sheepishly in response. “Nay.”

Donald sighed, raising the bottles one by one. “This is to stop your stomach from being upset. This is for open cuts. This is to stop headaches. This is-oh, this is actually what I need.”

He unscrewed the lid and popped two into his mouth. He stared at the bottle and groaned after a moment. “These probably won’t work as well as when they were new. They can last for a time after the expiration, but not for forever.”

“Thank you for informing me of their meaning, friend.” He had expected Donald to be annoyed as per usual, but ever since last night he had been extremely patient and kind to Storkules. It only made the love in his heart blossom at his kindness.

“Son of a bitch!” The duck groaned, clearly focused on kneeding his leg. 

Strokules didn’t like to see him in pain. “Would you desire me to assist you?”

He had reached out, intent on applying similar pressure to his aching leg, but Donald’s hand shot out to grasp his wrist. His eyes were wide, fear clear in them. It seemed as though he wasn’t quite all there when he spoke, voice coming out venomous. “Don’t.”

“Donald?” The stork pulled gently, but the grip wouldn’t release. He didn’t want to use his full strength on the duck when he was weak, but he was very uncomfortable with his friend’s behavior. “May you allow me to pull away?”

Donald seemed to be suddenly aware of what he had done and jerked his hand away, pulling it close to his chest. The fear still lingered in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that...”

“What was the matter?” 

Donald shook his head and dropped his hand into his lap. “It was nothing, really. Just got...startled.”

“Perhaps I should fetch your uncle.”

“No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t want to talk to him. I want to...I want to go back to sleep.”

“Friend Donald, you have slumbered for over sixteenth of an hour. Perhaps it would be wise to say awake for the day.” Donald had never been one to oversleep and the demigod had allowed him to do so already. After all, he had a trying time for the past year, it was perfectly alright to allow him to do so. But, the fact Donald just wanted to go back to sleep and nothing else concerned him greatly.

“Knock knock,” There was a knocking at the door to accompany the words, and Webby slipped into the dark room. She frowned and flicked on the light. Donald flinched at the change of lighting, but didn’t protest. “I don’t know how you guys can see in here when it’s so dark.”

“Friend Webbigal!” Storkules has strode forward, reaching out to pick her up, and hug her tightly. The plate of food in her hands nearly fell to the floor, but she raised it high above her body to prevent him for touching it. “It has been a great many of months!”

“Yeah, it has been! I heard you were looking for Donald the whole time?”

“Aye! And here he is!” He set her down, directly at the foot of his bed. The pancakes hopped above the plate briefly, before settling back down. She smiled at the duck, who tenderly smiled back at her. She went over to his side table, setting down the plate, and turned to him. The stork clenched his fist, bellowing. “A mighty reunion!”

Webby laughed a little and spoke to Donald. “I brought you pancakes, Uncle Donald.”

“I see that,” His eyes were filling with tears, as were hers. One of their last conversations had been for her to call him that and she just did for the first time. “Did you...want a hug, Webby?”

“Yes!” She all but flung herself onto the bed, wrapping her arms around him tightly. 

He pet the back of her head, before reaching down to stroke her hair gently. “Your hair got longer.”

“Yeah, Lena thought it would look cool if I grew it out. She wanted me to dye it like with hers, but that’s not really my style.”

He pulled away, eyebrows furrowed. “You better not dye it. It’s nice how it is.”

“That’s what Violet said. I agreed with her and now I’m just going to see how far it grows.”

“You’re taller now, aren’t you?” His voice sounded distant, as were his eyes. They seemed to stare right through her. She felt unsettled by the look.

“Uh, yeah. I’m a inch taller than Huey. He’s not that happy about that. He wants to be the tallest out of all of us, but I’m beating him at that!”

“I wish I could have seen you get taller...” He didn’t sound like he was aware of what he was saying.

She felt panic lace her heart and she grasped blindly for the pancakes. She shoved them into his face and blurted out. “Here! You should eat these!”

Whatever apparent trace he had been in, seemed to fade, and he grabbed the plate. “Uhhh, Webby, how do I eat this?”

Oh, no. Dewey was right, Donald had lost his marbles. “Um, by putting it in your mouth?”

“Webby, there’s no silverware.”

“Ohhhh, haha. Whoops. I’m going...” She had slid off of the bed, creeping towards the door. “...get some for you.”

When the pair was alone again, Donald looked to Storkules, whom had pulled the curtains back to stare outside. He had a mysterious expression on his face, one he had never seen his friend make before. Usually the demigod was all smiles and friendly expressions. Seeing a serious gaze on his face was definitely out of character. “Uh, are you alright?”

“I was thinking about my sister.” He simply replied, continuing to stare out the window.

“Oh...when was the last you saw her?”

“Over 275 moons ago.”

Donald had to puzzle through that in order to make sense of what Storkules had told him. Nine months. It wasn’t definitely as bad as Donald’s nearly 12 years being apart from his sister. But, he knew how much the demigod cared about his sister, and likely how much that hurt for him. Storkules had told him many times that Selene was his closet companion that he shared everything with. Now he had lost that as he couldn’t return to the island. Why hasn’t she gone to Storkules though? “Why doesn’t she come here?”

The stork looked directly at him in confusion. “You know of her curse, do you not?”

“Her what? Since when does she have a curse?”

“Oh, I suppose this never had come up during our years as breathen in arms. I am certain Della is aware however. As ruler of the moon, she is required to be stationary in a single location, until she is capable of passing on the mantle to another.”

Donald had no idea and now it made sense why she never went to Della to visit when she hadn’t been stuck on the moon. “Why is that even a thing?”

“It simply is. It has always been as such.”

“Wait, hold on, isn’t if Selene is your little sister, than you’re older than her. Who was ruler before her?” The room darkened as storm clouds approached. Donald rolled his eyes as it began to rain. “Oh, come on, what did I do now?”

“Zeus does not like mortals to speak of her mother.” Thunder rumbled and a strike of lightning hit somewhere in the wood land near Duckburg.

“Her mother?”

“Selene hails from a mother different than my own.” 

Donald stared at him. In all the years he had known the demigod, he had never thought to ask about an absent mother in his life. He hadn’t ever mentioned her until now either. “Where’s yours?”

The thunder sounded closer than before and the flash of lightning was slightly brighter. Storkules appeared nearly pained by the question and he turned back to the window. Donald could no longer see his expression. His voice oddly lacked little emotion as he spoke. “She is no longer among the living.”

There was another flash and the lightning struck directly in the front yard of the mansion. The noise of the strike roared loudly, the room filled with a bright light, and the ground rocked for a moment. Donald released a scream, suddenly feeling extremely off. He could have sworn he was in his bedroom, but now he wasn’t. He was in the Spear of Selene, hurtling back towards Earth.

Donald felt his body heating up, sweat dripping down his beak, onto the hot metal below him. He felt extreme heat touch his wing and he yelped, before jerking away. He stared out the window in front of him, watching the planet rapidly approaching. His head felt as though it were about to explode. The pressure hurt too much for him to handle. He was close to passing out.

“T-The kids!” He gasped out, grabbing the sides of his head to combat the pressure he felt. He provided little relief, but the feeling of his hands digging into his skull kept him awake. He couldn’t afford to black out now. “Must...stay...awake!”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, as water was seen. The moment the ship made contact with the ocean, there was a bright explosion of light and his surroundings rocked violently. He opened his mouth to scream at the pain, but instead inhaled gallons of water. Everything went dark and he knew no more.  
*

Storkules flinched at the strike in the front yard, eyes squeezed shut as the light nearly blinded him. His father was angry at their discussion, as per usual. He hated to endure the wrath of father’s fury. Usually he could handle when he was simply upset about not having his way, but this type of fury was no something to mess with. His eyes snapped open when he suddenly remembered that Donald was in the room.

He turned around to speak to his friend, only to realize Donald was curled up into a ball, pushing himself as far as possible where the wall met the bed. He was staring straight ahead and was paler than usual. Storkules was immediately by his bed once more. “Friend Donald?”

Donald whimpered pitifully and the stork felt his heart clench. He reached out, touching his wing. Donald touch and he jerked his hand back. He was alarmed by his friend’s behavior. He has only seen this type of behavior in warriors that seen too much death, and in...Donald was whispering through a clenched bill. “T-The kids!”

“Friend Donald, wherever you believe yourself to be, is not where you are,” The duck’s hands shoot up to grab tightly at his own skull. He could see that he was pressing too hard and Storkules didn’t know how to make him stop. “Donald, please, cease this.”

“Must...stay...awake!”

“You are! You are awake!” He went to reach for Donald’s hands to pull them away, when he gasped loudly, then choked. “I vow that I will assist you to escape your nightmare!”

Donald’s eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and he went boneless as he passed out. The stork stared at him in shock, before he was shaking his friend. “Friend Donald! Friend Donald, are you alright?! My Donald!”

He shook his shoulder and received no response. He raised a hand above his bill, hoping his friend was alive. He felt warm breath brush against his hand and nearly cried in relief. He knew now that Donald had passed out after his brief episode. The stork knew that many warriors suffered from ghosts of battles past and Donald seemed to mimic the signs of it. What had Donald done during his time on the moon?

He left the room, heading downstairs for assistance. He went down the large staircase and saw the front door wide open. Storkules headed outside to see who had went out. He saw Bentina and Webby standing next to a burned tree, both appearing to study it. Scrooge was standing a few feet away and was cursing at the sky. “YOU NO GOOD-“

“Friend Scrooge!”

The older duck whirled around, pointing his cane at him angrily. “YOU TELL YOUR-“

“Scrooge.” Bentina had covered Webby’s ears, shaking her head firmly.

Webby yelled loudly. “Granny, I know what curse words are!”

“No, you do not, and I better not hear another word about it.”

“Dewey gets to cuss...” Shw mumbled as the hands were removed.

“Excuse me?” Bentina questioned, eyes narrowed.

Scrooge had taken a few deep breathes as Storkules approached them. He lowered his cane, watching the clouds retreat into the distance. He turned to the demigod. “Care to explain why the bloody hell Zeus threw lightning in our direction?!”

“Scrooge! For God’s sake, I just sai-“

“I do not wish to interrupt, Friend Bentina, but I required assistance. Donald is unwell.”

The tone among them changed immediately. Webby stared at him in worry, clearly upset that Donald wasn’t well. Bentina has gone silent and was listening. Scrooge spoke a bit frantically. “What is it now? Is he alright?”

“I believe that the ghosts of the past are haunting Friend Donald,” The trio stared at him, clearly no comprehensive of what he was saying. “I believe what warriors have ails him.”

“What do warriors have?” Scrooge asked in bewilderment.

“Weapons of mass destruction?” Webby suggested and her grandmother sighed at her words.

“I believe Storkules is suggesting something else. You say that he has a disease that warriors receive?”

“Aye, of the mind.”

“You’re meaning to say he has PTSD?” 

Scrooge and Webby appeared horrified by the implication of Donald having that. He wasn’t certain the meaning by those letters, but judging from the faces surrounding him it was a serious condition. “What do those symbols stand for?”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Typically it’s observed in those that have involvement with any type of war. Soldiers continue to have flashbacks of their time of war and have anxiety over it as well. There are other symptoms that accompany it, but those are the main ones. Others not in combat can have it as well. Someone that experiences anything severely distressing can.”

“Aye, that is what I believe him to have. He experienced an episode during the wrath my father released and now slumbers after. I was unable to rouse him from his nightmare nor from his slumber he is partaking in now.”

Scrooge suddenly strode across the front yard without warning, heading back inside without them. Bentina grasped at Webby’s shoulder, speaking to her. “Webbigal, would you go call Della?”

“She’s at work though.”

“I’m sure she’ll be allowed to leave as this is an emergency.”

“Ok, Granny. I’ll be back!”

As she ran towards the entrance of the mansion and headed inside, Bentina turned to Storkules to speak further with him. “Why exactly was there lightning being thrown at us?”

He glanced up at the sky nervously. “Father was upset by what Donald and were speaking about.”

“Which was?”

“I doubt he would desire us to speak about it once more. He might react not as kind the next time I attempt to breach the subject.”

“Are you able to at least tell me why Donald had an episode?”

“I am not certain, though it did occur after the lightning struck.”

“So, it appears that the lightning and thunder triggered his episode. Whatever for though?”

“I believe it to perhaps be related to his time spent on the moon. I have not questioned him on the subject quite yet. I thought it would be wise for him to slumber before hand.”

“Well, unfortunately when he awakens there will have to be a discussion,” She sighed. “As it seems Scrooge is handling Donald, perhaps I should set up a family session.”

“What is that?”

“Oh, for their therapy. I do recall that you have been gone a number of months, so I doubt you know about that. Do you know what therapy is?”

“Nay.”

“It’s a form of healing for the mind. When people have issues, such as PTSD, they talk through their problems and address how to deal with them.”

“Ah, as Asclepius has done for others.”

“That name does sound familiar. Do remind me who that is?”

“Asclepius is the son of my cousin, Apollo. He rules over truth, prophecy, and above all else healing. Though he does not frequent the isle, he roams throughout the world as a healer. At times he is where warriors reside, other times where he is needed to heal those with ailments of the nightmare kind. He was there during m-“ He suddenly snapped his bill shut.

She raised an eyebrow. “When what?”

“It is related to the subject that Father was not well to.”

Bentina rubbed the bridge of her bill with two fingers. “Alright, with that note, perhaps it would be best for us to venture back inside.”

There was a loud screeching noise as a motorcycle abruptly came barreling towards them. Neither moved an inch, as Launchpad swerved, and crashed the vehicle into the tree. The tree produced a loud groaning noise, before falling over. The duck removed his helmet, smiling wide. One of his front teeth was visibly missing. He made a thumbs up. “I’m ok!”

“What in the world happened to your tooth?” She questioned, as he stumbled towards them.

“Oh, that? DW and I had a crazyyyyyy day yesterday. There was this guy th-“

“Is your thumb broken too? Have you even been to a hospital?”

“Nah, we were too tired last night, so we just crashed. But, Mr. McDee said Donald was alive? I wanted to see him!”

“He is and I haven’t even seen him yet myself. However, there is an issue.”

“What’s that?”

“Friend Donald is being tormented by the ghosts of the past.” Storkules explained.

“Ghosts? Like the ones Mr. McDee is friends with?”

“No, he means that he believes that Donald has PTSD,” Launchpad actually gasped, hands flying up to his bill. She was startled by the expression on his face. He was usually full of endless optimism, but he looked as though something had been broken. “Yes, it is terrible news if he does have it, but it hasn’t been confirmed quite yet.”

“Is he going to a therapist soon? He should see one pronto, it’s really important to catch that early on, before it gets worse. Has he had any episodes yet?”

She and Storkules were both impressed by his apparent knowledge. “Launchpad, you sound like you know a lot about this.”

He blinked. “I mean, yeah. When your boyfriend has PTSD, it’s pretty good to know more about it.”

“Darkwing Duck has PTSD?”

“Uh, yes? I thought everyone knew that,” He frowned. “Wait, maybe that was supposed to be something kept secret so bad guys wouldn’t take advantage of it.”

“Launchpad, we do not have the time to talk about that. I am however glad you have some background on this subject. Would you like to help out Scrooge with this?”

“Yeah, is course. Donald is my friend and I would feel bad if I didn’t. Hey, Storkules, did you-where did he go?” The demigod had already disappeared much to both of their surprise. “That’s funny, he was just here a second ago.”

“I suppose he already ventured inside, just as we should,” She answered, heading inside as Launchpad stumbled after her. “Are you alright?”

“Eh, a little pain never hurt anyone.”

“That is the definition of pain. What exactly is wrong with your foot?”

“It’s more my ankle. I did wrap it last night, but it’s kinda swollen now.”

“Please don’t tell me you were doing something reckless again yesterday.”

“Ummmm, is jumping off of a six story building reckless?”

She stopped walking, turning around. “You did what?!”

“It was an emergency! DW was about to get squashed!”

“By what? What sort of trouble have you gotten into this time?”

“Well, none now. We took care of him and he’s not coming back, again.”

“Who are you talking about?”

He looked away, mumbling. “It doesn’t really matter now. He may have kinda fell off a building with a heavy..thing around his leg? And, he might have definitely drowned at the bottom of the bay?”

Bentina gaped at him. “What in the world was happening yesterday?”

“Look, it’s kinda complicated and would take a long time to explain. But, a girl is alive because of us at least, and even if it was bad to let that guy die, at least she didn’t have to.”

“Launchpad, I know you’re in the business of being a superhero with Darkwing, but that’s a bit worrying.”

“Why is it for us? You’ve killed a lot of people.”

“...I have done no such thing.”

“Ms. Beakley, you do remember who accidentally stumbled over your collection of guns, right?” Launchpad replied.

She glared at him as she crossed her arms. “None the less, it’s better not to taint either of your hands with this type of work. It can be bad for you to indulge in that.”

“I know that! I’m not going to go out of my way to do it, but I’m not upset that he’s dead! He wanted to kill Gosalyn and she’s only 15-years-old! I can’t allow someone that tries to do that get away with it! He’s killed loads of people before that, too. He was a mob boss that would do that when things didn’t go his way!”

After his rant, she saw how bad he seemed to feel for going off like that. His face had reddened a bit and he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that.”

“It’s perfectly alright, but that is a dangerous road to go down. Killing anyone, even if they are a super villain is bad, even if they do hurt others.”

“Well, if they are going to try hurting someone else, I’m not going to let them. And as far as going down that path? Well, there is a reason we say let’s get dangerous. It’s for the good of all innocent people! Innocent people like Gosalyn that will live now. They’re the reason we do what we do, to make people safe.”

She smiled at him, knowing his passionate tone to be true. “Launchpad, you have a good heart. Keep that.”

He smiled back at her. “As long as there is someone innocent that needs protecting, I will always do what’s right.”

“Well, I’m glad for that,” She answered, honest about what he had said. If anyone would keep St. Canard on the right path, she knew Launchpad was the best choice. “Well then, I’m going to call their therapist and I suppose you could go see if Scrooge needs any help.”

“Aye, aye, Ms. Beakley, mam!” He saluted her, before they headed inside.  
*

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to talk to you?” Donald mumbled, blanket pulled up over his head as he laid in the bed.

“Lad, look, I know you’re upset, but I’m concerned about you. Storkules said you had some type of episode and that you passed out.” Scrooge was standing at his bedside.

“Funny how you’re concerned now.”

Scrooge was about to lose his temper if his nephew kept this up. He had come running when he knew Donald needed him and he had the gall to act like this? “Why do you have to be so stubborn! You’re always like this!”

“Just leave me the hell alone!” 

Scrooge was on him in an instant, tearing the comforter from the surprised duck with ease. He shouted at him, the sheet being flung to the ground. “Would you listen to me?! I have been nothing but supportive since you came home yesterday and you’re acting like an immature wee one!”

Donald was staring at him with wide eyes, appearing frightened. Scrooge studied him for a moment. Though he appeared cleaner than before, he was clearly soaked in his own sweat and was trembling subtlety. The stump of his leg was an angry color and his leg was vaguely spasming. The older duck felt his anger fade and sat down at the end of the bed. “I shouldn’t have done that. Are you alright?”

Donald scowled, returning to his normal self. He bent over the edge of the bed and plucked up the comforter to rewrap himself in. This time he kept his face bare to Scrooge though. “No, you shouldn’t have. Where’s Storkules?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea! He was the one to come bring us to you when he didn’t know what to do. I’ve never seen such panic on his face before.”

Donald looked guiltily suddenly. “I didn’t...worry him too bad, did I?”

Scrooge didn’t want to lie to him. Storkules had already admitted how distressing Donald’s behavior was and he could tell by the faces the demigod had been making since yesterday, that he had been upset. “Lad, he’s a little unnerved by your behavior... just as I have been. I think you should go see your therapist.”

Donald frowned. “How am I supposed to do that if I’m dead apparently?”

“Er, I can take care of that. It might take awhile to get that sorted. Did you want to go see him though?”

“What choice do I have? Apparently I’ve lost my mind.”

“Now, I never said that. I believe that you’re not...well at the moment.”

“What about you? What’s your excuse for seeing one?”

“I don’t have an excuse, Donald,” The duck appeared surprised by the admission. “I have issues, just as everyone else does to sort out.”

“You...are admitting that you have issues? Of all people? Can I get that in writing?”

Scrooge smiled fondly. It wasn’t exactly forgiveness, but Donald treating him as he normally does made all the difference. Usually he would have scowled and rolled his eyes, but he found himself taking a different approach instead. “I’m not going to deny that I’ve learned a number of bad habits over my 153 years of being alive. I’m trying to work through them though. As my therapist always says ‘it will never be too late to heal’.”

Donald stared at him. “Who are you?”

Scrooge did roll his eyes at that. “Look, Donald, I’m trying. I know that you are unwilling to forgive me at this time, but I’m worried about you.”

“I know! Everyone is!” 

The door swung open with no warning given and Launchpad entered. He saw Donald and a huge smile spread across his face. Then he began to bawl loudly, tears treating down his face. “D-Donald, buddy, you’re alive!”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. If I give you a hug, will you stop yelling?” Donald asked, frowning at the open display of tears. Launchpad shook his head, indicating that he wouldn’t cease his crying. Donald opened up his arms, waving him over. “I’ll give you one anyways.”

Launchpad went a step further and lifted him from the bed and hugged him tightly. Donald wheezed and Scrooge was reminded of when Storkules had first greeted him. The older duck addressed him, grimacing at the action. “Launchpad, maybe now isn’t the best time to do that.”

“Oh, right.” Launchpad set the irritated Duck back down on his bed. Launchpad saw his missing leg and stared at it with wide eyes and didn’t say a word.

“You know you can ask about it instead of staring.” Donald grumbled.

“Uh, right. It’s just weird, you know, seeing you not have a leg. Like, Della has a metal leg, instead of like a normal one, but I never knew her before she had it. But, like, you used to have one, so it’s really weird for me. What happened?”

“It got crushed.”

“Oh...are you going to get a metal leg, too?”

“Um, I don’t know yet. Maybe. I did have a wood one, but it broke.”

“Oh, that sucks. How you going to walk now?”

Donald sighed. “I don’t know, Launchpad, but I’ll figure it out somehow.”

“Well, that’s good. Are you alright though? I know you probably don’t want everyone to be, but we are pretty worried. Storkules said you’ve been acting different than you usually do.”

Scrooge had expected rage or even shame in return to those words. He was surprised when Donald simply nodded and spoke plainly. “I might be a little off right now.”

“Well, that’s normal when you’ve gone through what you have. Have you talked to anyone about that happened?”

Donald side eyed his uncle and Scrooge held his breath. “Um, no.”

“Do you want to? I’m happy to listen.”

“No. Well...”

Launchpad turned to the older duck and smiled. “I can handle it from here, Mr. McDee.”

“Launchpad, perhaps it would be best for me stay.” Scrooge needed to hear, he needed to know what troubled his nephew.

“Mr. McDee, I know you’re my employer, but Donald isn’t going to say it in front of me when you’re here. He would like to talk alone to me.”

“What? No he...” Donald wasn’t looking at him and that was an answer in it’s self. He thought about the little duck that used to tell him everything as a child and how this grown up version of him didn’t want to say a word. He tried not to let the hurt show. Scrooge forced a smile as he stood up. “Well, I do need to make a few phone calls to get your...situation sorted, Donald. I’ll be back later though.”

“Cool, you hear that Donald? Pretty soon you’re going to be amongst the living again!” He gave the duck a crooked thumbs up.

Scrooge felt uncomfortable by those words and instead focused on Launchpad’s swollen finger. “Is your thumb broken?”

Launchpad lowered his thumb, smile firmly staying in place. “Nope, everything is fine here.”

“...Launchpad, go see a doctor.”

“I will definitely see a doctor later today,” Launchpad confirmed as both Donald and Scrooge rolled their eyes at him. “As soon as I’m done driving you around today.”

Scrooge shook his head. “We’ll see how you’re feeling in awhile. I’m going to go make those calls now.”

“Ok, see you later!” Launchpad waved him out as he walked away. The older duck felt as though this was going to end poorly. Scrooge hoped he was making the right decision letting the pilot console Donald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may have not forgotten to update oops? Um, anyways, happy New Year’s Eve! I hope everyone has been enjoying their holidays. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: panic attack after Launchpad leaves the office.

“So, like how long were you on the moon for? Because I like I haven’t seen you since...” Launchpad started to count on his fingers, before continuing. “Since Tuesday, when I dropped you off. Uh, I mean that one Tuesday over a year ago.”

Donald stared at him, feeling unnerved by the precise day of the week. “You remember which day of the week you dropped me off?”

“I mean yeah. Of course I would remember, especially after we all found out you never made it to the cruise and disappeared. How long were you on the moon though? Were you there the whole time?”

“Um, no, I wasn’t. And, I don’t really know how long I was on the moon? I didn’t exactly have a calendar when I was held in a jail cell.”

“Right, Penny did say you were held captive.”

Donald didn’t recognize the name. “Whose Penny?”

“Oh, you know, that friend of Della’s. I thought she was pretty cute awhile back, but she has a thing against dating ‘life forms’ different than her species and then I moved on and then I kinda realized I had a thing for-”

“Wait, hold on, Penny? Do you mean Commander Penumbra? She’s the one that tried to help me escape!”

“Well, she was trying to, but then she didn’t realize you would jump into the rocket ship she said. Penny thought you actually died, which is why we all thought that, too.”

“You trusted...an alien on that?”

“Oh, you don’t really know Penny, do you? She didn’t know that Lunaris guy wa-“  
Donald couldn’t breathe suddenly, his lungs were tight, he felt anger coursing through his veins. “-lad? Hey, can you look at me?”

He let out of his breath and his throat felt raw. He must have been screaming in anger without even thinking about it. He could barely think about anything else other than what the alien tried to do to Earth. What he had done to Donald when the duck didn’t bend to his will. “What are you thinking about?”

“That piece of work! He’s-“ He squawked furiously, waving around his wings. His hand smacked the side table’s lamp and it fell onto the ground before shattering. The noise made him pause, staring at it. All the anger drained from him the moment he realized what he had done. “Ah, phooey.”

“ Eh, I’m sure Mr. McDee can buy another one. He always pays for stuff when I accidentally break things. But, seriously though, what did that guy do? You seemed kind ticked off about him.”

“He threatened the boys, he threatened Earth, he-“ Donald sagged wearily into the bed, looking exhausted. “-said some really messed up things to me....he did a few...messed up things to me.”

“Like what?”

The duck was shaking his head vigoursly, looking uneased. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does though, otherwise you wouldn’t be so mad. You don’t have to tell me anything, but maybe you should tell someone. Weren’t you seeing a therapist before?”

He received a glare. “Oh, you’re just here to talk to me because Scrooge told you to, didn’t he?”

“I mean, it was actually Ms. Beakley, but it’s not like I didn’t want to in the first place. You’re my friend and I’m happy you’re alive,” Donald felt his heart warm at the pilot telling him that and he found a smile naturally coming to his face. “You know, I think you just need someone to talk to. A therapist is preferable, but maybe a friend to tell some things as well. DW usually tells me when he has issues, only because I want to listen, and I want to be there for him.”

“...I don’t know if I can...some of it isn’t good.”

“I mean, I know that. Drake has told me some pretty messed up stuff and I’ve seen some crazy things with him. You should find someone that is willing to listen and if it’s really bad, share it with someone that does it as a job to listen.”

“Well...I guess I could...try to tell you something.” Donald mumbled in reply.

“There you go! Just tell me something about your time on the moon that was easy.”

Donald didn’t know what had been easy. Most of it had been a constant struggle. His brain was stuck for the past two days, because the year had taken a huge toll on him. “Uh, I don’t really know.”

“Why don’t I tell you something easy I’ve done this year then? Maybe we can go back and forth?”

“Um, sure.”

“I thought it was pretty easy to become friends with Fenton. I didn’t really know him that well, but after I started to talk to him when he would help us out with bad guys...oh, wait, I don’t think I should have said that.”

“Launchpad, I already know he’s Gizmoduck.”

“Oh, well, that makes things easier then. Does Fenton know that? I should probably tell him, so he can ad it to his list. I was just saying though once we started to do more team ups, I was able to become pretty good friends with him. DW didn’t like it, but, eh, what can you do? Ok, your turn now!”

“Oh, well...I guess it was pretty easy to get back home?”

“How did you get back? No one really told me. I didn’t even knew you were alive until this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t really know how, but the boys, Huey and Dewey at least, Storkules, and Scrooge showed up on my island and brought me home.”

“Island?”

“Yeah, I was stuck on a island for a year.”

The pilot raised a hand at him, making a face. “Wait, hold on, I’m really confused. You were on the moon...and Penny said you got in a space ship and you died? And then you were on an island?”

“The rocket ship...” He felt stuck, unable to speak. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Do you need me to stop talking about that?” Donald nodded curtly. “Ok, well, I guess it’s my turn to say something, again. I think becoming famous overnight was easy?”

“What?”

“Well, I drew some fanart of Darkwing, and posted it on this famous social media thing, and suddenly everyone was liking it, and now I have 243 unopened messages requesting me to draw something for them, and at least half of them are saying they’ll pay me.”

Donald squinted at him. “...is this like Storkules’ art?”

“He draws fanart? Cool! What does he draw?”

“Me mostly...specifically as a really buff...I don’t really know what?”

“Oh, no, I don’t really do superhero stuff that much anymore. I’m kinda more into drawing like slice of life and people love it.”

“Like normal everyday stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff like doing laundry, and baking.”

“Does Darkwing even do either of those?”

“Well, yeah, of course. He’s always washing our laundry, mostly because I keep mixing up reds into the whites. And he loves to bake banana bread.”

Donald stared at him. “He does your laundry?”

“I mean, yeah, what else would he do with the clothes I throw in the hamper?” He stared back at Donald and then his face lite up. “Ohhh, of course! I would judge me too, if I thought he did everything. I do the dishes all the time and I always clean the bathroom, so he’s not doing all the chores.”

The duck stared at him, becoming more confused. “Do you two live together?”

“Yeah, in the tower. Oh, the tower is at the main bridge in St. Canard. It’s actually a really nice setup for us. It’s the perfect size for two. Plus, nobody would suspect a hero to have his hide out up there.”

“Do you even live here anymore?”

“No, not really. I moved in with DW when it started to be kinda hard for me to drive back and forth everyday. I’m only here on the weekends and if Scrooge really needs me for something like today. I’m supposed to drive him around, so that he can do some stuff to make it so you’re alive again. I think it’s your turn to share something though. I’ve kinda been doing most of the talking. Though I do enjoy doing that.”

He was finding it easier to think of topics to speak about, as Launchpad had a way of talking with others. “I think it was pretty easy to fall back into the boys. I was a little...afraid they would be completely different, but they’re not. They’re just bigger now. Well...except Louie is...”

He could feel anxiety washing up against him and judging by the alarmed face Launchpad was making, Donald was definitely acting strangely. “Uhhhhh, I think that I might have a rash in my armpit!”

Donald was definitely jolted from his nerves at those words and stared at him in disgust. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, I should probably get that looked at by a doctor. Probably like this should be, too,” He was staring at his a clearly broken thumb that Donald grimaced at. The pilot looked back at him. “Tell me one more thing.”

“...I can’t really think of anything else.”

“That’s ok! As I always tell DW, ‘it is better to think of nothing, than it is to think of everything’.”

“That’s...surprisingly good advice?”

“Is it? DW does say I’m really good at motivating him. I’m glad I can help him like that. I’m always happy when I can make him be the best he can be!”

Donald stared at him, feeling glad that Launchpad had a friend to share his advice with everyday. “That’s good that he has a friend like you.”

“You think so? Oh, what am I saying, of course it’s a good thing. He would probably be dead at the bottom of a cliff without me. DW kinda doesn’t have an ‘off switch’. He keeps going and going and I have to be there to turn it off, otherwise he’ll hurt himself.”

“And you’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say in charge, but as his boyfriend I know him better than anyone, and I know how to look out for the signs of him overworking himself,” Donald stared at him with wide eyes and Launchpad stared back. “What?”

“Launchpad...are you gay?”

“Well, bisexual, but yeah.”

Donald felt like he was having an existential crisis. He hadn’t know the entire time that Launchpad was gay, but then again, he didn’t talk to him as much as he probably should. The duck felt like he should try to remedy that at some point. “I didn’t know you were.”

“That’s ok, most of my ex’s are women, so most people don’t really know that. I usually do find women more attractive, so it’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, I just feel like I should have known.”

“Why would you? I didn’t know DW was gay until like a few months ago. He’s kinda quiet about that type of thing, so it never really came up until it suddenly did for him.”

“That doesn’t sound like the crazy guy that Dewey talked about after that whole failed project at Scrooge’s studio.”

“I mean, he’s not really quiet about everything. Only when it’s him being gay...or hurt, he does that a lot when he’s hurt. Other than that, he’s pretty loud. I like that though! He’s really cute when he starts to talk about things he’s passionate about. Or when he’s closing his eyes and standing on his tip toes to kiss me. Or when he starts to take off his-“

Donald didn’t know where that sentence was going and wasn’t planning on finding out. “Launchpad, I don’t need to hear about your love life.”

“Oh, yeah, I forget people get kinda weirded out by that. I can be pretty intense about DW. I just really love him, you know?”

“Uh, I’m not really dating anyone right now, so probably not. I haven’t in awhile.”

“Well, wasn’t there someone once upon a time that you were with?”

He tried to think about on those he had dated in the past. The last time he was on a date was when the boys were 4-years-old and it had been with this beautiful toucan that had recently lost her husband and was getting back into the dating scene. Donald had lost his temper when the basket of bread had fallen over and the rest was history. “Uhhhh...”

“Really, you’ve never been in love?”

“I mean, yeah, I have been. It was a long time ago though.”

“Who was it?”

“They were old college friends and I thought we had something...but, then Della disappeared and I had to take care of the boys, so I kinda broke things off.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes. There’s always something bigger for you to take care of, huh?” Launchpad replied.

Donald thought back on how he would have done anything in the world for the two of them. He could have continued to travel the rest of his life with Panchito and Jose, instead of the three drifting away from one another. The trio had regularly kept in contact after their reunion last time, but before that he didn’t talk to them for a number of years. “Yeah, I guess so...”

Launchpad smiled at him. “You know it’s never too late, right? You could always try to sweep them off their feet again!”

Donald looked away. “Yeah, well, I don’t think they’re interested anymore...last time I saw them, they didn’t really act like they wanted to get back together with me...”

The pilot appeared to pity him, before nodding. “Well, there’s always other fish in the sea. It took me twenty three people before DW. Just give it time.”

“I’m not going to really focus on that right now. I just need to be with my boys and get back on my feet. That’s what I need right now.” The duck answered, thinking about focusing on his family at that moment.  
*

“What do you mean that he can’t reopen his old account? He’s alive!” Scrooge shouted into the phone. “...what? No, he wasn’t dead in the first place, he was missing and presumed dead!”

He heard a knock on his office’s door and steadily ignored it. “Yes, there’s money to put into the account. I did absorb his assets, but I can just put the amount I did back in.”

There was another knock and he turned his bill away from the phone for a moment. “I’m in the middle of an important phone call!”

The door cracked open, but he was too busy speaking to the bank to notice. “Yes, I paid all his debts off. I am the richest duck in the world after all. If he can’t reopen his old one, he could just open a new one, right?”

Scrooge looked away from his phone and saw Launchpad standing by the door, holding it open. Beside him using a crutch, that he wasn’t aware they had in the mansion, was Donald. “I have to go. I will be calling back later to get this sorted though.”

The older duck hung up the phone. Donald didn’t say anything, while the pilot started the conversation. “Hi Mr. McDee, we were just wondering if Donald could talk to that guy that hooked Della up with a better version of her metal leg.”

“I could, but perhaps it would be best to get other things sorted first, wouldn’t it, Donald?” He spoke directly to his nephew, who was glowering in return.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Maybe your bank account? Though it has been a struggle confirming that you are alive. It seems most companies and institutions don’t have a process to reverse what has been done with your life.”

“It wouldn’t have been a problem, if you didn’t decide I was dead.” Scrooge grimaced at the words, but didn’t reply.

“Uh, Donald?”

“What, Launchpad?”

“Della was actually the one that decided first that you weren’t alive anymore.”

“I-what?” He was looking back and forth between the two in the room. The duck looked as though someone told him that they hated him. He had paled significantly and looked as though he was on the edge of panic. “U-Uncle Scrooge?”

“Lad, I didn’t want to tell you, but...” Scrooge had rather taken the blame, then see the pain in his nephew’s eyes. His sister had made the decision to first breach the subject and Scrooge didn’t know how to explain how they had all reached the decision in the end. “...it was a decision we all made in the end though. We couldn’t linger forever.”

“I know that!” He was clutching the crutch tightly, face suddenly turning a scarlet color. He was no longer panicked, but losing his temper. “But, I thought at least someone would have cared that I was gone!”

That hurt the older duck’s heart. “How could you ask that? Of course we did!”

Launchpad was stepping in between their lines of sight to cease the fight. “Donald, trust me, everyone was really shaken up about you being gone. Dude, I honestly thought it was my fault you were missing at first.”

“What?” Donald and Scrooge both echoed one another.

The pilot scratched the back of his head. “Um, yeah. I mean, I was the last one to see you when I dropped you off at the bus stop. I drove back there like twelve times to look for you.”

Scrooge hadn’t known he had done that at all. Perhaps he had been so caught up in his immediate family that he didn’t take the chance to see how his extended ones were as well. He looked to Donald and saw his nephew looked surprised as well. “I didn’t know you...cared that much?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Everyone is my friend, including you. And I don’t like anything bad to happen to my friends.”

Donald looked like he wasn’t certain how to answer and was clearly uncomfortable by the words. Scrooge was uncomfortable about the fact he hadn’t paid attention to Launchpad’s worries. To be fair though, he had been around less since he moved in with Darkwing Duck though, so he didn’t quite see the duck as often as he used to. That reminded him though, as he stared at the pilot’s hand.

“Launchpad, I think you outta have someone take a look at your thumb. Your whole hand looks swollen.”

“Oh, it definitely is. And my ankle is doing this weird pounding thing. And the hole were my tooth used to be feels really hot for some reason? Not to mention the fact that it’s kinda hard to breathe right now, too. Might have been from when that guy smashed his hooves on my chest last night. That hurt like a lot!”

“Oh for the love of-go to the hospital!” Donald shouted at him. “You’ve been talking to me for like a hour and haven’t taken care of yourself! Get out of here!”

“Launchpad, I have to agree with Donald on this one. I doubt Darkwing would like you walking around injured like that.”

“You’re right about that one...hmmm, I think DW should go, too. Hey, Mr. McDee, is it alright if we use Gizmoduck’s doctor, again?”

“Really now? What’s he done this time? It better not be much worse than you.”

Launchpad looked a bit swifty eyed. “Ummmm, well he has a black eye...”

“Well, that’s not too bad-“

“...and his wing might be dislocated and his leg was trampled like my chest was and he got stabbed in the shoulder and he’s kinda out of it, like I’m pretty sure he had a concussion? Wait, people are supposed to sleep off concussion, right? I don’t remember now, why don’t I remember that? Maybe I have a concussion to?”

“If I hear another word about you or Darkwing’s injuries before I think about how much that’s going to cost, I won’t be letting you two use Gizmoduck’s doctor. I think it would be best if you just take the weekend off to deal with that.”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. McDee...and hey, Donald? If you need to talk to anyone just call me...I guess when you get another cell phone, because Louie sold yours. I’m going to go see how DW is doing. Ok, bye!” The pilot left the room with a wave to return to his motorcycle.

“...did Louie really sell my phone?” Donald asked with a sigh.

“He sold much more than that.”

“Of course he did. Sound I be concerned about anything important being gone?”

“Relax, lad, I made sure the boys didn’t pawn off your possessions...well, not all of them...” 

“Ok, I’ll just figure that out later. I do want to have something to walk on again though. You said there’s an issue reopening my account? That probably means getting government assistance again might be an issue, too...”

“Donald, I can pay for a leg for you.”

The duck glowered at him, shaking his head. “Absolutely not! I’m not going to owe you a single thing.”

“You’re not going to owe anything! I’m a billionaire!”

“I don’t need your help, no matter how much money you have. I can take care of myself.”

“I still don’t understand why you have to be like this every time I offer to do something for you. It would hardly make a dent in what I have. Della didn’t have an issue at all when I bought her a new one!”

“Because, I’ve always been able to pay for things my own way.”

“Well, you can’t right now! I absorbed all your assets because you never wrote a will and was planning on giving the boys part of your share when they turned 18-years-old.”

“I did have a will! Everyone in the Navy has to write one!”

“Well, where was it then?!”

“On the houseboat, just like everything else I own! Jose and Panchito knew I had one, so why did they never say anything to you?”

“You’re so called ‘friends’ didn’t even bother to come to your funeral and I haven’t heard a peep from them since before then, so how was I supposed to know?”

Donald looked shaken by the words. “They didn’t show up?”

“No, that’s what I just said! I sent them invitations and tried to call the number for Jose multiple times I found on your phone and no one ever answered.”

“There’s no way...but...Jose and Panchito never showed up?” He had staggered a step forward, hand clenching tight on the crutch.

“...I’m sorry, lad, I know they were your friends, but they didn’t.” Scrooge had reached out to grab hold of his nephew’s shoulder.

“But, they said...we’re the Three Caballeros. They wouldn’t just leave me behind?” He was shaking, gasping for breath. “Why did they never come? Why did they forget about me? Why did everyone?”

Scrooge was guiding him to his chair to sit down, as he started to hyperventilated, anxiety gripping him. “Donald, you’re alright. I promise everything is alright. We never forgot about you. I...I never forgot about you. I thought about you everyday.”

“B-But-they left me? I-I don’t understand! They must be in trouble or-or-or-“ Donald had gone off into a state of gasping breathes. 

Scrooge didn’t know what to do, as the panic attack took over. He had seen Della do this a few times in public, but usually removing her from the situation made it stop almost immediately. There wasn’t a trigger he could pull Donald away from though. “You need to stop doing that, you’re going to pass out or make yourself sick.”

Donald wasn’t responding though, he was starting to choke slightly. Scrooge snatched his cell phone up from the table and dialed the therapist’s personal number. After a moment there was an answer. “Hello, Scrooge, what do I-“

“Donald is having a panic attack and I’m not certain on how to stop it.” The billionaire blurted, panicking himself.

“Oh, just one moment,” He heard the therapist briefly speak to someone in the background, before returning to the phone. “What exactly triggered the attack and are you able to remove him from the source of it?”

“It was about his friends not coming to his funeral, so I’m not really sure what to do.” Donald was staring at him, eyes wide as he continued to pant in his panic.

“You need to make Donald focus on something else to help distract him. Put me on speaker, please.”

Scrooge did so and the therapist spoke. “Hi, Donald, your uncle told me you were struggling right now. I have something that might help, but you’re going to need to comply a little. Are you able to speak?”

Donald frantically shook his head. “He said no.”

“Are you able to write?”

Donald slowly nodded his head, though his panic was still painted clearly on his face. “He said yes.”

“Are you able to get him a pen and paper?”

Scrooge grabbed his solid gold pen and a random piece of scrap paper for him to use. The duck took it with trembling hands, his grip on the pen shaky. “Ok, I’m going to ask you five easy things. You don’t have to think too hard about them, alright. Write down five things you can see around you.”

The duck’s eyes roved around before he unsteadily wrote a few things down. From where Scrooge stood it was completely illegible from how badly the pen shook. “You don’t need to read them out loud, just fill them out. What are four things you can physically feel?”

Donald’s breathing shuddered, beginning to slow down. “What are three things you can hear?”

Scrooge felt immense relief that his nephew was beginning to calm down. “You’re almost there, Donald, you are calming down. What are two things you can smell?”

Donald sniffled, his eyes swelling with tears as his breathing returned back to normal. “Ok, you only have one left, you’re doing good. What is one thing you can taste?”

“B-Blood...I think I bit my tongue...” Donald rasped, sounding exhausted. He dropped the pen to the table, slouching in the chair. The older duck frowned at the words, reminding himself to have his personal doctor make a house call.

“That is something that should be checked out. Are you feeling panic anymore though?”

“No...I-I’m just tired...”

“That’s normal after a panic attack. Did you want to discuss why you were panicking? I know you don’t know me, but I have been your family’s therapist for the better part of seven months now, and I am familiar with your story.”

“No, I don’t really want to...” The duck was staring at his lap, fiddling with his hands.

“That’s alright. I have heard from your uncle you have an anger management therapist. Is he able to speak to you about other issues?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s good. I would recommend you speak to him to help readjust with what has happened to you. I know he would be more than willing to listen to you, just as he had before.”

“...I know that.” Donald mumbled, refusing to look back up.

“I’m glad that you do. I’m also glad you have such a caring family to back you up in your time of need, Donald. They have all told me many times how much they miss you.”

Donald didn’t react to what he had been told. “...thank you for your help.”

“You’re very welcome. Scrooge, would you like to speak about anything?”

The older duck felt as though Donald couldn’t truly understand how much they all did care. He didn’t think Donald knew how much he did. He sighed. “No, I don’t need anything at this time. Thank you for your help.”

“Well, I hope you two have a better night. Don’t hesitate to call or text if there’s another emergency.”

“We won’t. Have a good night now,” Scrooge hung up and the office was silent. He stared his nephew, feeling extremely concerned by the lack of motion on Donald’s half. “Lad, I-“

“Uncle Scrooge, can I borrow your phone?” He had looked back up at him, face completely blank.

“Er, of course.” 

Donald was handed the phone and he quickly dialed a number. After a moment he began to speak to who was on the other line. “Jones? I know this is kinda crazy, but it’s Donald. Donald Duck....I know, I’m alive, and....I need help.”

The first step to becoming whole again is getting the help you need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update of 2020! I hope you’re all having a great year so far. As for updates of this story, I have written out a few chapters ahead over the holidays, but I think I will continue to do a weekly update, just so I don’t keep you all waiting too long. 
> 
> I do have a few notes: first of all, yes, I made Panchito and Jose Donald’s ex-boyfriends. The trio are definitely still friends, but after it became clear Donald wanted to focus solely on the triplets and nothing else, the three decided to part ways. Also, Launchpad is definitely bi and nobody and convince me otherwise.
> 
> As always, I truly appreciate kudos and comments. See you all next week!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Please read the author’s note I’ve left at the end!
> 
> “T-This is too much though! I-I can’t do this!”
> 
> “You can and if you decide you won’t, you really won’t. You have to decide that you can do this or you’ll be stuck at this point forever. Do you understand that? If you decide to give up, you’ll never heal.”

”Storkules?” Launchpad was walking down the hallway, on his way out of the mansion, when he had suddenly remembered that the demigod hadn’t been in Donald’s room. Ms. Beakley and him had assumed that he had, but he had vanished as though he had never been there in the first place. “Dude, where did you go?”

He headed down the staircase, unable to locate the stork. It was strange how he had left them, but seeing as he had no idea where Storkules went, he couldn’t do anything about it. Besides, it was beginning to get hard for him to walk around on his swollen ankle, and his breathing was growing shallow. Maybe they were all right and this was more urgent that he had initially thought it had been. Yesterday had been really tough and he was starting think he should see a doctor.

He whistled the Darkwing Duck theme song to himself as he headed out the front door, returning to his motorcycle. He grabbed the helmet he left on the seat, sliding it over his head. The van they usually took on adventures pulled up before he could leave, and Della came out of the driver’s seat, wearing a uniform from the local grocery store. “Launchpad?”

He pulled off his helmet again and smiled at her. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Webby called me and said something was wrong with Donald. What’s happening?” Her eyebrows were furrowed together and she was jingling her keys anxiously.

“Oh, Donald was just kinda having a panic attack. He’s ok now. I left him with Scrooge, so like I think everything is gonna be alright.”

Della’s look of panic had faded into a look of relief, then confusion. “He’s having panic attacks?”

“Yeah, I think it has to do with when he was gone. He didn’t say a whole lot to me, but I think it would probably be good if he saw a therapist. Strokules thought he might have PTSD?”

“Donald? With PTSD? What did happen when he was gone?” She seemed a taken back, surprised that he would even have that.

“You haven’t talked to him yet?”

“No, not really. I tried once and he screamed at me, so I left, and then I went to work today. I had a shift I needed to go today, since Clarence called in sick.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t think he’s doing too hot right now. I would wait until he asks to see you.”

“What? But, he’s my brother and I haven’t talked to him for twelve years! I decided to leave him alone the first time, but this is really serious!”

“Yeah, but he’s not ready to see you. Sometimes PTSD is like that. People get really embarrassed if they think they’re mentally unwell, even if they shouldn’t be.”

“What? How do you even know that?”

“Oh, I know someone with it, but I’m starting to think I shouldn’t tell everyone who it is.”

“Is it Drake?”

Launchpad looked physically pained as he replied. “Dammit, I knew I couldn’t hide anything from you, Della. You know me too well!”

“I mean, I would hope so. I literally play D&D like every other night with you and Huey,” She rolled her eyes at him, before looking serious again. “That’s terrible though. I didn’t even know Drake had that.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda recent thing. Things didn’t go good with some of the bad guys we’ve gone up against. He’s a champion of the night though! Therapy does help, just like I think it would with Donald. Anyways, I should probably go, I’m kinda a little banged up and I can’t really feel my thumb anymore.”

She eyed his hand he presented and grimaced. “Uh, yeah, I would get that checked out.”

“I’ll see you Tuesday for game night, if something doesn’t come up in St. Canard. Bye, Della!” He had thrown his helmet back on and had pulled away from the broken tree in reverse. He sped off through the open gate, waving at her briefly.

Della watched him go and sighed. She turned back to the mansion, staring at the window of Donald’s room. “Donald, I miss you.”  
*

“I’m frankly surprised you’re even alive,” Jones started gruffly, sitting across him. He pointed at Donald’s missing leg, the crutch lying against the chair he sat in. “What happened with that?”

The therapist cut directly to the chase, as he always did during sessions. Donald had always appreciated that and was glad he had Jones to be his therapist. He didn’t have to go through necessities and didn’t feel like he was being babied. “It got crushed.”

“You really know how to wax poetry there, Donald. Care to elaborate or do you want to pass?”

“Pass.”

“Oh, is that how this session is going to be? If it’s anything like your first one we ever had we both know that this going to be a waste of time.”

Donald frowned. “I’m not trying to be difficult, it’s just hard to talk about.”

“And what about your situation won’t be? You were sent to the moon and marooned on an island for a year.”

“Well, some things aren’t that hard to talk about.”

“Really? Let’s have you start then. What do you want to talk about?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. Now, I think we should start with your leg, since that is obviously the elephant in the room, and I really would like to hear how that happened.”

“It got crushed.” The duck repeated firmly.

“Ok and how did that happen again?”

Donald felt a heat rising underneath his shirt as he thought back on the pain, his leg slowly dying, him removing it. “It got crushed.”

“Are you feeling anger or anxiety right now? Your face is turning that color it does when you’re upset.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.” He answered honestly, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Both, then. In the past you’ve said they usually come hand in hand. High stress situations cause the anger usually. Do you need to release that anger before you can tell me?”

“...yeah, I can do that...I can’t use both of my hands though, I have to use the crutch.”

“Use one hand then. Release all your anger with one hand. Go, do it now.”

Donald had stood, using the crutch to steady himself, heading over to a punching bag sitting forlornly in the corner. He frowned at the sight of it. “This is new.”

“Yeah, you battered the old one to high hell, so I had to order a new one for my other patients. We’re not here to chit chat though, just release your anger,” Donald hesitantly punched it gently with his right hand. “Are you kidding me right now? I know you can do better. I know you can tear that to shreds with one hand alone.”

“I don’t think I’m mad though?”

“Really, you’re not mad you were stuck on an island all alone for a year?” Donald clenched his bill. “You’re not angry your leg got crushed?” Donald’s grip on the clutch tightened. “You’re not furious that it’s gone and you won’t ever have the original one back?”

Donald suddenly pounded the bag and it swung violently. He punched it again. And again. And again. He suddenly screamed, punching it as hard as he could. The bag swung back and toppled him over. He fell onto his bottom and screamed at the top of his lungs, before slamming his fists into the ground. The wood cracked underneath him as he began to squawk furiously, and Jones allowed him to release his anger at the ground, despite the damage. After all, Scrooge McDuck could pay him now, just as he paid off Donald’s old bills.

After a few minutes, Donald was left panting, lying on his stomach on the floor. The therapist stood over him, nodding in satisfaction. “You ready to talk now?”

Donald rolled over onto his back to look up at him. His face had returned to it’s normal hue now and he appeared to be less wound up now. “Yeah...I need help up though.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Physically it seems in this case,” Jones picked him up in one arm and dropped him back into his chair. “Now, what happened to your leg?”

“It got crushed...u-under a piece of metal from the...Sphere of Selene.” Donald spit out, struggling along to way to say so, his body beginning to tense up once more.

“Is that how you got to the moon?” A nod in response. “And, how did you get in the ship your sister crash landed back on Earth?”

“I went out to the woods when I saw her ship coming back when I was at the bus stop. I went out there, because I knew it had to be her. It was empty and I...f-fell in...and t-then it was...” Donald was shaking, a hand placed over his bill.

“Ok, stop, just stop. You’re going to make yourself sick. That was more than I was expecting you to tell me and honestly I’m pretty impressed. I’m impressed you told me that, but I’m more impressed you could survive that.”

Donald was swallowing compulsively, unable to answer. “Are you red, yellow, or green?”

“R-Red.”

“Ok, let’s try a different topic then. How was it when you met with Della, again?”

“I, uh, haven’t really officially?”

“What? You’ve been in the same mansion as your sister-the one you’ve talked to me endlessly about-and you haven’t even faced her?”

“I mean, I did once, but...I couldn’t...I wasn’t thinking right and I just wanted to be alone and I was...screaming. I couldn’t even stop once I got started. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at me like that before.” Donald felt ill again, thinking about the face Della had made when he just kept screaming wordlessly at her.

“So, it was a bad experience you would say?”

“That’s an understatement.” Donald grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sooo, when are you planning on actually talking to her then?”

The duck threw his hands up. “I don’t know!”

The therapist groaned at his words. “Look, Donald, I need to know why you’re hesitating on this. It’s clear you’ve been avoiding seeing her since you got back.”

Donald shifted uncomfortably, speaking lowly. “I guess I’m...a little nervous...what if she’s not the same? What if she doesn’t like me like this?”

“Like what? The same stubborn, high strung, angry duck you’ve always been? Because, honestly, I’m not seeing much of a difference there.”

“But, I just feel different! I feel almost...more angry than ever, even about small things that I normally don’t care about. I feel like I have to watch my back way too much, like I had to when I was stuck on the island. I don’t feel like talking to really anyone either.”

“You’ve had something happen to you that should have not and now your brain is trying to cope with it the only way it can. You’re still the same person though. People change, but they don’t suddenly turn into a new person.”

“But...Della wasn’t really ready to be a mom, but now suddenly she’s doing it? Like I heard from the boys the way she’s just kinda stepped into it? That sounds like a new person to me.”

“You weren’t ready to raise them either, but you didn’t become a new person. You just adapted and then decided to change for the better. Just as she did when she returned and was able to become a mother finally,” The duck seemed to understand what Jones was saying, as he whispering a quite ‘oh’ under his breathe. “Now that we’re on the same page, I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“Have you been finding yourself zoning out or having yourself keep returning to the same memory over and over?”

Donald appeared to be uncomfortable. “Um...I keep thinking about the island...and about the cr...cr...cr...”

“The crash?” He received a stiff nod. “And, any zoning out?”

“...a little...I keep...sometimes I don’t feel...real...” Donald confessed, staring at his hands.

“Derealization.”

“What?” He looked back up in confusion.

“That’s what the word you’re looking for is. When you are feeling as though your self is unreal. It’s fairly normal for anyone to feel that at times, especially if they suffer from a prexisting mental disruption.  
Has it been a lot for you?”

Donald gulped. “It’s felt like that really bad yesterday, but usually I can’t tell if anything around me is real or not? It kinda happened on the island a few times, too. I don’t even know if I’m really talking to you or if I’ve still been left on that island still or has anything been real in my life up until this point?”

“First off, you are definitely real, and as am I. If neither of us were, how would the both of us being having this discussion here in my office? As for the rest of that, that’s an abnormal amount of self doubt about yourself and your surroundings. It sounds as though you’re suffering from dissociative episodes.”

“Dissociative...what do I do with that information?”

“Accept that you’re not mentally well at the moment. It’s a response to the trauma you received during your time away. Addressing it will either help or trigger another episode. Usually it’s your brain attempting to protect you from the panic attached to the event.”

“But...I don’t think I had trauma? If anything I should have gotten it from when I was in the Navy, but I didn’t.”

“The brain has a funny thing where it might stack up trauma, until get it decides that there’s been too much stress on it. What happened during your time in the Navy you were able to handle. Being captured on the moon? Crashing the space ship? Those on top of what happened in the Navy, ended up causing you too much stress for you to handle. Tell me, have you had any flashbacks to any of the events?”

“...That question and what you’re saying sounds like PTSD.”

“That’s because it is Donald. You’ve already listed many symptoms, like your dissociation. It’s starting to become apparent that your suffering is still ongoing.”

“I can’t have that though! That would cause an issue with me having guardianship of the boys.”

“There’s several people with PTSD that have custody of their children, as long as they can manage the illness. And, even if it were somehow to affect that, your sister is still legally their mother, and has not have that right revoked. Besides, you’re telling me you expect Della not to allow you to be around them if that were to happen?”

Donald hesitantly answered. “Well...no....she would let me see them all the time if that happened. She knows what it’s like to...”

“To what?”

He was shaking his head and mumbling. “That’s not right. I can’t say that because it’s not the same.”

“You’re going to have to clarify what you were thinking for me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I was going to say...call the boys my...k-kids, but they’re not, they’re her’s.”

“After spending over a decade raising them and you’re afraid of calling yourself a parent? They may not be your sons by blood, but that doesn’t make Huey, Dewey, and Louie any less your children. Della is their mother, but you were the one to raise them to be the teenagers they are today. You shouldn’t see it as a wrong to think that about them.”

“I’ve never said it out loud. I’ve thought it a few times, but never out loud. I’m afraid that they all wouldn’t agree with me on that.” Donald admitted, hands fidgeting.

“Even if they don’t, that doesn’t stop the way you feel about it. And, in most cases of guardianship, children do feel a parental connection to the one taking care of them, even if they’re not a parent by blood. I’m certain they feel the same way about you, even if you are their uncle.”

Donald was now crying silently, bill clamped shut tightly. Jones watched him weep, before sighing, and handing him the tissue box sitting on his desk. “I’ve told you before, we don’t hold in tears here. You’re allowed to cry.”

“I-I know. I-I just don’t want to. I-I don’t think I can stop once I start.”

“Considering the fact we still have at least fifthteen minutes, I think that’s enough time for you to cry. You would probably max out around the ten minute mark.” That was enough to say, before Donald began to sob loudly. Jones sat there, staring at his notes he had been taking, allowing the duck to release his emotions.

Part of the way through the time he spent crying, Donald gushed out the words painfully. “I-I wish I didn’t leave the island!”

“You would have missed Huey, Dewey, and Louie growing up if you didn’t leave.” Jones argued, looking back up.

“T-This is too much though! I-I can’t do this!”

“You can and if you decide you won’t, you really won’t. You have to decide that you can do this or you’ll be stuck at this point forever. Do you understand that? If you decide to give up, you’ll never heal.”

“I didn’t want this in the first place!” Donald grabbed the item closet to him, his crutch, and chucked it at a wall near him. There was a crunch noise as it made a hole in the thin office wall, before clattering violently to the ground.

Jones didn’t even blink, used to Donald’s powerful outbursts he typically experienced. “But, you have it, and now you have to deal with it. There’s nothing else you can do, except to accept what you, and move on from there.”

Donald stared at him, dark smudges from the disrupted sleep he experienced the previous night underneath his eyes. He wiped his eyes with a tissue, sniffling. “I do want to get better. I want to...I want to do better...for the boys. Always for the boys.”

“Then, you’ll get better. It’s going to be a long and rough road, but you’ll get there. It will be easier if you have your family and friends helping you along the way though. The support alone can make all the difference.”

“...the boys always did make things easier, everytime I came home from work...and Launchpad made things easier, when he talked to me...and Storkules made it easier when he wanted to listen to me...and Della when I would have somebody make fun of me when I was younger...and Uncle Scrooge when he decided to take us in.”

“You should know first hand then, that someone will always be there to help, and that things do get better, no matter how hard it seems. Now, what do you want to do for the first step? As always, I can help you with that, but it’s your decision what you want.”

“...I want to talk to Della.”

“Alright then, let’s make a plan of action for you.”  
*

“How’d it go, Donald?” Launchpad asked him, as the Duck got into the backseat of the limousine, the larger duck holding open the door.

Donald grunted, pulling in the crutch, and slamming the door shut. The pilot had gotten into the front seat and waited for him to answer. He strapped in the seatbelt, as Launchpad began to pull away from the curb. “It was fine. What happened with the doctor?”

“Oh, yeah, my thumb is definitely broken. And my left ankle’s bone has a fracture it turns out. Like, how could have anyone predicted that?” The duck changed lanes without even looking at his blind spots and several cars around him honked nosily as he cut them off.

“How the hell you didn’t is beyond me.”

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you over all those cars honking at us for some reason.”

Donald rolled his eyes. “Nothing. What about your chest? Is it ok?”

“There’s this hugeeee bruise. Like the doctors said they were really confused about how I didn’t have a bunch of broken ribs, because like you can see how dark it is through my feathers. He told me I probably shouldn’t drive or anything for the next few days. Or really do anything.”

His eyes widened. “What?! Why didn’t you tell me that when I called you?!”

“Well, you needed help getting home. I know you wouldn’t want to call a taxi or anything when you were probably upset after your session.”

Once again Donald was surprised by Launchpad’s generous heart. It didn’t matter what problems he had, he always thought about others first. “...um, thank you.”

They bounced over a curb, slamming into a fire hydrant and running it over. Donald’s hand shot out to grab for the car door, as he gasped out loud at the actions. “Whuh? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of metal crunching on metal.”

“Oh, for the love of-pull over!”

“What? Why?”

“Just, pull over, I’m driving us the rest for the way!” Donald shouted at him, trembling from the adrenaline. Launchpad immediately pulled over and several animals driving by cursed him through their open windows. The larger duck had tried to twist around to speak to him, but hissed loudly as he grimaced at the pain he felt in his chest as he attempted to do so. Donald fumed, face brightening with a red hue for a brief moment. “That’s why!”

“But, like, what about your leg?” Launchpad protested, fiddling with his seatbelt.

“Just because I’m missing a leg, doesn’t make me invalid! And besides, I need the right one, not the left.” Launchpad didn’t argue with him and got out of the front seat. He knew that the larger duck must have been in a considerable amount of pain if he didn’t insist that he could drive the rest of the way and that only motivated Donald to push open his door and use the crutch to hobble to the front seat. 

Launchpad got out and went around on the passenger side and slid into the front seat. Donald got in the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. The pilot beside him looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think I’ve ever sat in another seat in here, other than the driver’s.”

Donald felt a bit out of his element as well. He had never driven a limousine before and this was the first time in over a year he would be a driver of a vehicle. He definitely remembered what to do, but was afraid he would mess up somehow. Plus, he just remembered that his license had been taken, back when he was captured on the moon. “Maybe this is a bad idea...I haven’t drove in awhile.”

“I’m sure you’ll be ok. I’m not really the best at driving, so I don’t think you could do worse than me. I’ve always been a better pilot.”

“That’s debatable,” Donald mumbled in return. What Launchpad said though gave him the confidence and he glanced at the side mirror for oncoming traffic. After a moment he pulled out into the street, heading back towards to mansion. He made a turn and was able to easily merge with traffic. “Huh, I guess I am doing alright.”

“That’s the spirit!” Launchpad beamed at him. Donald felt himself relax, shoulders slumping in relief as he continued his peaceful drive home. When he arrived at the next turn, he was surprised to see that the road suddenly ended. “Oh yeah, they tore up the road over here. I think they’re building some more houses here? You’re gonna to have to turn around.”

Donald backed up and turned back the direction he came in, thinking to himself. He had found yet another thing in his life that changed. He was surprised what could happen in a year and had never thought about how the world moved on without you. Even if you didn’t want it to. Donald gulped, trying not to think about how little he felt he meant to the world.

“...do you think I would be a good husband?” Launchpad suddenly asked out of the blue.

“Uhhhhhh...” Donald answered, glancing at him briefly. “Why are you asking that?”

The pilot scratched the back of his head. “I was thinking that...well, I don’t know if I should, but...I think I want to propose to Drake.”

“I don’t really know if I can say or not? I don’t know enough about the both of you to say.”

“Oh yeah, you weren’t really around when we got together and I started to help him out with the superhero gig.”

Donald gulped, before speaking. “Well, uh, I know that you’re really nice and you both really like the Darkwing Duck character, like an obsessive amount.”

“Awww, you called me nice!” Launchpad grinned at him.

Donald flushed in embarrassment and determinately stared straight ahead and tried not to feel awkward. “Uh, well, yeah, you are. And, well, you know how to care about other people. I think those are good signs that you could be?”

“...I just think about the bad things about myself though? Like I know I’m not exactly... mature and I’m not really the smartest person.”

Donald jolted at the words, staring at Launchpad in shock. He wasn’t aware that the larger duck was that self conscious about himself. He seemed to always go about his life without a doubt about himself and it was startling to hear otherwise. “I wouldn’t say that you’re...not smart, but maybe not self aware what’s happening around you?”

“That’s nice of you to say that Donald, but I know what other people say about me. I’ve had a lot of people upset at me when I keep messing things up as usual. I know it happens because I don’t really pay attention and I do try to actually focus, but a lot of the time I’m not good at figuring out day to day stuff. Like I’m great at high stress stuff, like car chases, but I’m really bad at doing stuff that everyone else does everyday.”

“Wasn’t Darkwing a stunt devil though? And don’t the both of you go out doing hero stuff every night? That sounds like you’re not messing that up. And you both are doing the same things and enjoying it, too. I kinda feel like that’s a good for someone when you’re...in love.”

Launchpad seemed to think to himself, before nodding. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to propose to DW.”

Donald felt his chest warm at the decision. While he didn’t know about their relationship as well as he could, from what he heard it sounded like they would be a good match. He was happy Launchpad was able to find someone he cared about and wanted to spend the rest of his life with, without fate trying to pull them apart.

The duck thought about how a long time ago he thought he could have that with a rooster and a parrot. He had decided that his nephews were his main concern though and had removed himself from the pair. And, as time often does, the years seemed to dull his romance into fond memories of what had once been. While he wasn’t in love with Jose and Panchito anymore, he still thought about what they could have had if Della hadn’t gotten lost in space.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to be in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I updated a day early, because there’s an issue I would like to address. I’m not going to point to any one person in particular, but a few readers have been spamming me with too many comments that are asking me too many personal questions. I’ve mentioned this in the comments, but I do actually have a life outside of fanfiction. Please limit your comments to one to two a chapter. Also I am not looking for suggestions of plot ideas for this story. I will be ignoring those that leave comments that violates either of these ground rules I have set down. I have my own stresses to deal with in life and I don’t need this on top of the rest of them. Thank you everyone for understanding!
> 
> Notes for this chapter: I have given Darkwing Duck PTSD and for good reasons that I will be getting into later on for the story. I feel as though Drake Mallard (both the original and the DT17 version) would neglect his mental state despite obvious signs of suffering. Naturally, there would be obvious side effects from continuing to do so over and over again, which would end up with a diagnosis of PTSD in his case. Exactly what happened to Donald in this story as well.
> 
> The dissociate talk didn’t go too deep in the description, so I didn’t deem it worthy enough to tag. Often times people that have these issues of derealization and depersonalization, have these issues in the first place due to trauma relating to situations that give anxiety to said person. A lot of the time it’s a defense mechanism in times of dire stress, in order to try to protect the person. The therapy talks with Jones will be going into more detail in the future for this, but this is just a basis of why exactly Donald has suffered a few episodes now.
> 
> As always kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! But, please remember not to spam with your comments! Thank you for your consideration and I’ll see you all next week.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am content at the moment. I am not in distress.”
> 
> “Why are you sitting here alone crying then?”

Donald unlocked the houseboat’s door, leaning on his crutch to hold himself up on the swaying vessel. He briefly glanced over his shoulder to watch Launchpad retreat to the side garage that he rarely occupied anymore. While it still housed the limousine, and had the pilot’s previous set up, there was rarely any use for it any longer. It mostly had become backup storage for Darkwing Duck and Launchpad by this point. It was now useful in the sense of being an occasional place for Launchpad to sleep at, as he was too modest to accept the invitation of sleeping in the mansion, and was now going to be there until someone could drive him back to St. Canard.

In the meantime, Donald had froze at the door, hand resting the handle. How much had changed while he was gone? He was terrified to to finally find out. It had been a year and apparently some of what he opened had been sold by one of money loving nephews. While Scrooge has assured him much hadn’t been missing, he had a feeling the billionaire wasn’t aware of how far Louie would go behind someone’s back. He needed to see the damage for himself. 

Donald entered the boat, swinging open the door firmly. He blinked in surprise as the action revealed Storkules to be sitting on the floor by the dining table. Sunlight poured in through a window, light washing over his lowly lighted form. He could have sworn that the light had ebbed since he last saw him, but he couldn’t quite recall how much it had been before. “Storkules? Is this where you went? I didn’t see you again after you left.”

The demigod’s bill was wobbling dangerously as he replied. “W-Where else may I roam? I haven’t another option.”

Donald felt panic grip his heart. He had never seen the stork with tears rolling down his face before. His eyes were puffy and red, indicating he had been for some time now. How long had he been crying here alone? “Uh, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Storkules quickly wiped his eyes when he realized he had been caught. “I am content at the moment. I am not in distress.”

“Why are you sitting here alone crying then? Did I...” Donald felt guilty as he thought about the reason why. He had finally come to the conclusion that he was at fault, wasn’t he? “I’m sorry.”

The stork waved his hands at him. “Apologies are unnecessary, as you are perfect as you are.”

“I’m not though! I’m not perfect at all and I don’t know why you still think that after it’s been pretty clear that I’m pretty broken right now.” He ranted, unaware that he sounded self destructive in his reasoning.

“But, you are-“

“No! Just stop that or I’m going to absolutely lose my mind!” Donald screamed at him suddenly, one of his hands grabbing at the fluffed up feathers upon his head. The stork stared at him in surprise and Donald felt himself flush when he realized how worked up he sounded. “Uh, sorry.”

The demigod seemed to be at a lost of words. “I...am uncertain how you can view yourself as imperfect when I have witnessed the contrary.”

“That’s only because you see the good parts.” Donald turned to the kitchen, observing the thin layer of dust settled upon it. It seemed as though parts of the houseboat were completely untouched in his absence, the vessel frozen in time. He had been worried that everything would look different inside, but mostly everything looked the same. 

“But, I have witnessed the other halves of yourself, and my heart continues to long for you.” He admitted quietly as he fiddled with his hands.

“Well, I don’t want you to feel like that! I just want you to stop being so...!” Donald had whirled around, but cut himself off as his face began to turn red. He was losing his temper, yet again. That was the millionth time today that it felt like he had. Storkules wasn’t doing this on purpose. He truly held Donald in the highest respect and didn’t know how to see differently.

“I cannot cease my heart from being full of undying love for you!” Storkules shouted back a second later, though he seemed to shrink in on himself as he did so. His face had flushed and his eyes betrayed his regret.

The duck stared at him, shocked he had raised his voice. He had never done that to Donald before. “Why do you feel like that, even if I don’t love you back?”

The demigod buried his face into his knees, silent for a full minute. Donald allowed him to collect his thoughts for an answer. When he finally spoke, he whispered at him. “... I confess that I did venture away from the mansion at the highest point of the sun.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you stayed here?”

“Forgive my lie.” He begged, his voice sounding wet, as though he were on the edge of tears once more.

“Well, why did you lie? I don’t understand.”

Storkules didn’t answer for a long moment, long enough that Donald thought he wasn’t going to at all. When he did, he sounded quieter, and his tone had gone emotionless. “...I confronted my father, returning to the isle in which I hailed from. I needed to speak about...him thrusting his wrath upon your uncle’s mansion and about...her to him. He refused to allow me to do so and then we had an argument...then, he proceeded to inform me that...I posses a curse, just as fair Selene does.”

Donald felt his heart pounding in his chest at the words. He didn’t know what he was about to say, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be good. “Wha...what is your curse?”

“...to hold the deepest admiration for those that will never return it.”

The duck felt his heart drop and knew that was not good in the least. Was he saying what he thought he was? Was he saying he was cursed to love those that will never love him back? Did that mean only romantically? He had too many questions, so he started with the strongest one. “How did that happen?”

The stork’s voice was deathly quiet, which only heightened Donald’s anxiety. “My father’s...wife is H-Hera. She is my...stepmother and when my....my...when my other one was heavy with me...Hera grew angry and...c-cursed her.”

“What...what happened?” 

Storkules looked up, a haunted gaze aimed directly at him. Donald didn’t know that the stork was capable of looking like that and it terrified him deeply. “...I was not born for seven moons...she was in labor the entirety of the time and...and when I was...she had...she was never as she had been before I existed.”

His voice had broke, before he continued on. “She was allowed to live on Ithaquack in peace...but, she never believed she was. She was plagued by nightmare visions the entire time I cared for her...I always thought...I always thought that the reason why she would tell me she...that she h-hated me was because...she didn’t remember who I was...but...I was wrong. She knew the whole time and she t-truly...” 

Donald knew he shouldn’t ask, but he needed to know. It concerned him that he hadn’t even known about her until this very moment. “Storkules...I didn’t meet your...your mother either of the times we were there. Where is she?”

The demigod looked at him with pain, his eyes full of tears threatening to fall. That was enough of an answer to the duck and he fell to his knee, reaching out to hug his friend. He ignored the sound of his crutch clattering to the ground and the houseboat rocking at the movement. After a moment of tense silence, Storkules wrapped his large arms around him in return and cried in his smaller shoulder. “...Γιατί γεννήθηκα έτσι!”*

Donald hadn’t a clue what he had said in Greek, but he could feel the hurt radiating off of him. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling anger rise in his chest. Storkules was his friend no matter what the romantic feelings the other held and to know that Zeus had allowed all of this to happen to such a kind animal made him furious to no end. He even felt intense passionate hate towards Hera. He had never met the goddess personally and already knew he loathed her greatly for making him suffer. He finally understood why Scrooge hated Gods and Goddesses. “...you can stay here as long as you need to.”

The stork paused in his crying, eyebrows furrowed. “You indicated you did not like me as your roommate.”

“Yeah, well, things are different now. And I don’t think I’m really going to sleep in here anytime soon. I don’t really want to see the water right now.” He focused in on the noise of the pool water lapping up against the houseboat. He had gone in wanting to see his home for the first time in a year, but now felt uncomfortable, knowing he was surrounded by water. He tried not to decipher the meaning behind that too hard.

Strokules hugged him tightly against his chest. “I thank you for your generosity, my Donald. It is more than deserving of myself.”

“Hey, you do deserve it,” Donald answered, not liking the negative viewpoint the stork had. “You always deserve it.”

His eyes had become dry as he released Donald. “Please, allow me to be alone at this moment in time...I believe my feelings are messing with my sense of judgement.”

The duck wasn’t certain if he meant his painful sadness or his affection he had for Donald. Either way, he knew it would be best to cooperate in this case. It was the least Donald could do for him. “Yeah, I’ll just go back to the mansion.”

“Did you...need help with something? You came into here without my prompting.”

“Nah, I was just wondering where you were,” Donald answered, waving him off. “I think I should go now. I haven’t seen the boys since yesterday and want to figure out where they are.”

“Yes, you should enjoy your time with your nephews. They have...they have missed you greatly.”

Donald felt a lump in his throat at the words. “I-I know...”

“They are lucky to have a guardian as loving as you.”

Donald felt his heart pain at the words, knowing how geniue the compliment to be, after all, his own mother had hated him it seemed. He frowned though, confused as he thought about the curse. “Wait, your curse...I thought you said it was purely romantic?”

Storkules didn’t make eye contact as he spoke, instead focusing on a dust bunny near him. “No...it is for anyone I hold in high regards...those I hold in the utmost respect, may it be romantic or platonic, do not feel as I do.”

Storkules was in love with Donald, but Donald wasn’t. He had loved his mother with all of his heart, but she had ended up hating him with her dying breath. The duck wondered how many other forms of love that Storkules had been rejected. He thought about Zeus, how little it seemed as he cared about the demigod, and how much the stork had done for the God. Donald didn’t like this realization a bit. He just knew he needed to fix this, break the curse for the sake of his friend.   
Even when not looking for adventure, it always seemed to find him.  
*

High above Earth, slowly rotating each day around the planet, was a golden rocket ship. The ship glinted in the constant sunlight, keeping the vessel at an unusually warm temperature. He watched through the window, down below at the changing light, half of the planet shrouded in the sun, and the other half in the darkness. “...would you cease that incessant noise!”

Lunaris was slouching in his seat, helmet sitting in his lap as he watched a shooting star zoom by in the distance. The shark below him paused in his munching of yet another control panel, before continuing on. “I don’t even understand how that foul beast is still alive...must be gorging itself on my rocket ship...suppose I should count myself lucky that I thought ahead and stocked my ship with the essentials.”

He wiped the sweat forming on his brow, cursing. The alien wasn’t faring well with these hot temperatures. The moon typically had cooler weather throughout the year, so he had grown up in an environment that wasn’t as warm as he had been for the entire year. While he had packed years worth of food into his ship, he didn’t think that anything to combat heat would be necessary, so it seemed as though he would continue to struggle with this.

He shielded his eyes as the sun shone into his face and hissed. “I will get out of here yet and...I will get the McDuck family for what they’ve done. They trapped me up here, took away the residents of my rulership, and brainwashed a perfectly good commander! I should have just killed Della Duck when I had the chance!”

Lunaris slammed his fist on the control panel and bellowed. “I SHOULD KILLED ALL OF THEM BEFORE THEY RUINED MY PLANS!”

He panted, regaining his calm after a moment, the spaceship having moved away from the sun, facing towards his home planet. “I wasted so much time trying to get more information about Earth out of Donald Duck, when I should have just killed him the moment he was in my clutches. Those two were not worth the trouble I was put through...it started with those two...Della and Donald...”

Lunaris ground his teeth together, voice dark. “I’ll make you two pay...I’ll make sure you two wish you were never ali-“

The lights flickered and shut off abruptly. He groaned loudly. It seemed as though the shark had finally cut through his light source. He looked away briefly from the moon to address the situation, before realizing something was hurtling across space in his direction. He cursed loudly and suddenly there was a loud crunching noise as it collided with the front window of the space craft, silencing his furious rant.  
*

Donald felt as though the boys and Webby were hiding from him, because he had just spent the past half hour looking around the mansion for them by this point. He was beginning to grow irritable, due partly because the effort it took to use the crutch to get around, and partly because he wanted to speak to them all. He needed to catch up more with them and see what they had been up to for the past year.

Of course, the triplets seemed to enjoy causing Donald annoyance as always, with him having to go out of his way to find them. He went down the main staircase, taking one step at a time, pausing when he heard Ms. Beakley address him. “Ah, it seems you’re finally up and about, wandering the mansion like you own it as per usual. And here I was beginning to wonder if Donald Duck had lost the obstinate temperament he’s always had.”

The duck realized he hadn’t spoken to her since he had returned. Donald gulped as she approached, meeting him part way up the stairs, and watched her cross her arms over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say to me after a year?”

“Uhhh, hi?” He meekly answered, nervous about her stern gaze. Typically, he would have found a more suitable response with Ms. Beakley’s critique of his personality, but he didn’t know how to respond to her after all this time.

She seemed a bit thrown off by his weak reply, frowning at him. Donald understood why to, as the pair had established a strong-willed relationship, a type of respect for one another. But, now it seemed as though he were acting like he had never seen her before. It was as the they were brought back to when they first met. “Are you alright?”

“Ummm...I was...looking for the boys...” He answered uncertainly, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, well, you’re not going to be able to find them using that. They went out back in the forest with Webby and I doubt your crutch can handle going out there. Not sure what exactly they’re up to, but I believe you have a more pressing matter at hand.”

“What? What matter?” He didn’t understand what else he was forgetting at that moment.

“Donald.” He heard her voice at the base of the stairs, his attention diverted from Ms. Beakley immediately by the familiar tone.

She stared up at him, clad in a green uniform shirt for the grocery store down the road, hair pulled up into high ponytail. Her metal leg glistened in the sunlight from the large windows, a reminder that the pair were twins in every sense of the word. His voice came out with more emotion than he expected, anxiety being the primary one. “Della.”

The oldest duck stepped to the side of the staircase, allowing Donald full view of his sister only. Her eyes filled with tears, staring at his missing left leg, and the crutch he used to get around. A hand went to her bill, conveying her shock at the sight. “Y-You lost yours, too.”

Donald slowly continued down the stairs, feeling dazed. Last time he saw her he had been unhinged and hadn’t bothered to to get a good look at her. Now that he did though, he could see that she hadn’t aged very much. Her features reflected her to be younger, as she hadn’t had any true signs of being in her late 30’s, like any wrinkles or gray feathers. He could tell her stress hadn’t gotten to her, the same way it had done to him over the years. He was constantly sporting gray feathers, having always to pluck them away to hide his early onsite of stress, and he was beginning to grow frown lines.

When he arrived at the base of the stairs, standing directly in front of her, did he see that she appeared to be as anxious as him. “Y-You’re not going to scream at me again, are you?”

He went to go off of the last step, to be on equal ground with her, when he misplaced his crutch, and found himself tumbling forward. Della stepped forward, arms outreached for him. His hand landed on her shoulder and his leg buckled underneath him. After a moment, Della toppled backwards from his sudden weight falling onto her. The pair both fell over, Donald landing on top of his sister, and both of them hissed in pain. 

Donald’s face was mushed into her stomach and he wheezed out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. He hadn’t expected to lose his balance and really wished he could have caught himself before falling onto his sister. Della groaned loudly. “Ugh, that hurt like hell.”

“Are you two alright?” Ms. Beakley stood over them, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I just wish Donald would have warned me that he was going to fall over.” Della answered, sounding annoyed.

Donald scowled at her words, pushing himself off of her, and laid back onto his bottom. Of course she had to say that, always blaming him for everything. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s not like I planned on doing that!”

Della sat up, an equal scowl etched onto her face. “You could have fooled me. Seems a little too convenient you waited until you were on the last step to do that!”

“Why would I even plan on doing that?! What would o gain from doing that?!” Donald shouted at her, face beginning to redden.

“Alright you two, stop that this instant. This is supposed to be a reunion and here you are at each other’s throats.” Ms. Beakley told them, recrossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m not the one who fell on top of me!” Della argued in return.

Donald felt anger bubble underneath his skin and immediately shot back at her. “At least I didn’t plan on doing that to you on purpose, Dumbella!”

“Excuse me?! I just left a twelve hour shift, an hour early at the busiest time to see if you were okay, and you respond by calling me a childish name?!” She was on her feet, face turning a similar hue to his.

“Well, you’re being a-“ Donald felt his rage bubble over and he back to quack furiously at her. She responded with similar noises, both of them losing themselves in their anger.

“That’s it! If you two don’t cease this now, I will be getting your Uncle involved!” Me. Beakley shouted above them.

Della immediately stopped, shaking her head. “Oh, you are not having him here! I can deal with Donald on my own and don’t need Uncle Scrooge to watch over me like I’m a little girl again!”

“Yeah, we’re both fully grown ducks, and can handle this ok our own!” Donald agreed, having quit his moment of rage.

“Then act like it! You’re acting like a bunch of primary school children! Now, if you don’t hug this instant, I will be taking drastic measures!” Her eyes were narrowed threateningly.

They both grumbled under their breath, before looking at one other, as Ms. Beakley stepped aside. Donald bristled, feeling uncomfortable with his sister glaring at him from an angle above him. Della seemed to study him from above, before her face softened. She squatted down to reach out a hand to him. “Do you need help up?”

Donald felt his shoulders slump, the anger draining from him, now that she was at the same height as him. He didn’t respond, but did take her hand. She hauled him up, wrapping an arm around his shoulder for him to stand. Ms. Beakley handed his crutch to him and he took it with a mumbled ‘thanks’. Della released him once he had the crutch to balance himself once more.

“You’re not injured, are you, Donald?” Ms. Beakley asked, glancing at him up and down.

“I’m fine...” He answered, before turning to Della. “I’m sorry I yelled at you...”

She nodded at him. “I’m sorry I accused you...I just...y-you’re missing your leg, too.”

He stared at her metal one, gulping thickly. “I am...it got crushed.”

She laughed lowly, nodding. “Mine did, too...The Spear?”

“The Spear.” He confirmed at her question.

“It kinda looks like you did a hack job though. Your skin looks all jagged. Did they not teach you what to do in the Navy?”

He gave her a deadpan look. “Yeah, they had a whole detailed course, with a doctor that took things step by step for all of us.”

She scowled. “You can just say no, you know.”

“What do you think, Della? Would it look like this if I was taught? Plus I didn’t have really anything good to use to finish the job.”

“You don’t carry that hunting knife I gave you for your 16th birthday?”

“No, I sold it years ago. I couldn’t keep it in the same house as the kids and I needed extra money for groceries.” He explained, shaking his head.

“Then, how did you remove your leg, Donald?” Mrs. Beakley asked, curious look in her eyes.

“Well, how did she get her’s off?” Donald reflected with anxiousness, pointing at Della.

“Uh, easy. A hunting knife, which is why my cut is so smooth. And the ship had some medical supplies stocked in it. I had everything I needed to take care of it, right down to the painkillers.”

Donald looked down at the ground, feeling anger at the words. “Well, not all of us are so lucky.”

He was completely unaware of the shared looks of concern the pair had out of his line of vision. Della spoke first, making Donald look back up at her. “Well, do you want to hear the epic story of how Della Duck saved Earth?”

Donald rolled his eyes. “Not particularly, no.”

“Oh, you definitely do! I did it all single handedly, too!” 

“You do recall that Webbigal was with you, Della? You attempted to remove the children from the invasion and go into hiding.” Ms. Beakley had raised an eyebrow at her.

Della shushed her. “Webby just got a little mixed up, because I totally didn’t try to go into hiding!”

Donald sighed. “I’m going to need a drink if you’re going to subject me to your made up crap.”

“Hey, don’t be like that! It’s a pretty heroic tale!”

“I better make that two.” Mrs. Beakley answered, heading to the kitchen to find the finest scotch the mansion held. Donald followed after her, knowing she would find the strongest liquor they had here. It was what they both needed if they were going to put up with what she had to say for the next few hours.

“Screw you guys! It’s a perfectly good story and I’m going to prove it to you!” She shouted, hustling after them into the kitchen.  
*

Thousands of miles in the Earth’s atmosphere, a massive asteroid hurtled towards the surface, a golden spaceship on the front of it glistening from the sun’s burning haze of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Used by Google Translate, so I apologize if it’s wrong!  
Γιατί γεννήθηκα έτσι!= Because I was born that way! 
> 
> Storkules is obviously supposed to be a parody of Hercules, the Greek divine hero, so I took his lore, and added it to this story.   
Alcmene was the mortal mother of Hercules (I’m given Storkules’ mother the same name). As usual, Zeus tricked her into sleeping with him, and she became pregnant with Hercules. Hera, Zeus’ wife and Goddess of marriage/birth, grew angry about the affair. While there are many versions on what happened next, I chose the story of Alcmene being in labor for seven days, being prevented from giving birth for this story, due to Hera’s interference. Beyond that brief background of the story, the relationship I’ve given Alcmene and Storkules is completely different, as you’ll hear about in future chapters.
> 
> Oh, there’s an actual plot happening in the background of Castaway? Yes, yes there is. I hope you all watch carefully for those future background paragraphs. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Please remember though, only a few per person are necessary to share your thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* This chapter delves slightly into more than usual descriptions of violence and also has a section relating to war. Most of these sensitive subjects begin after Donald is speaking with Ms. Beakley.  
Stay safe readers!

Last night Donald had a drink of scotch with Ms. Beakley, as he listened to Della make up a story about how she had saved the world single handily, despite the fact that she hadn’t. Della has finally snatched the bottle half way through the story, pouring herself a glass. And then another. And another. Between the three of them she was the light weight and had quickly passed out shortly after. 

Donald had stopped himself after one glass, knowing it would be poor to drink more if he truly did have PTSD. Besides, with the way Ms. Beakley watched him, it was clear she would have stopped him if he tried to have more than one. The pair had sat in the kitchen, her telling him what had really happened while the invasion had occurred. By the time she had finished, Donald had learned what had happened, and how the Mooners had settled into the society around here. They had their children attending schools, they had the Mooners going to college, they had Mooners becoming part of the career field. It was fairly normal to see blue skin among the animals now.

All Donald could think about was how cruely he had been treated at the hands of them though. He set down his glass, feeling warmed by the heat it had given his body. “I-I need to say something.”

Ms. Beakley set down her own glass down, noticing his serious tone, and his shaking voice. She nodded at him. “Yes, what is it?”

Donald stared at his lap, breathing deeply. His voice came out shakier then before, yet he was capable of saying more than he thought he could in that moment. “W-When I was on the moon...they were not so...k-kind to me.”

“Well, quite frankly I’m not too surprised by that. From what I’ve seen of Penumbra, they can be an abrasive race. Though, many of them were tricked into thinking they were going to be attacked, so they acted as soldiers to fight for what they thought would be peace for their planet.”

“I know that...they weren’t very nice to me when I stayed there and they kept saying pretty rude things to me, but I’m no talking about...about them.”

“Do you mean Lunaris then?”

Donald felt his vision redden and she was suddenly covering her ears, face twisted in irritation. The duck covered his bill, trying to hold back the scream of rage he had unwillingly released. She lowered her hands, frowning at him. “What in God’s name made you think it was alright to scream like that?”

“I didn’t...” His voice was hoarse and he was shocked he hadn’t woken up Della. She must have really been unable to handle her alcohol all that well, if she hadn’t been roused. Then again, she had always been able to sleep through anything. He breathed deeply, before continuing. “I’m sorry...it was just...I don’t think I’ve ever been as angry at someone as much as him...he was going to...”

His hands were shaking and he thought back on Jones’ words, before speaking. “M-My anger and....a-anxiety go hand in hand...”

Ms. Beakley frowned at his words, before her eyes widened. “Donald...are you afraid of him?”

The duck didn’t respond, feeling sweat beading on his forehead. His heart was pounding and he simply placed his head into his hands. The older duck’s voice sounded distant to his ears as she spoke. “As I said before, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. I didn’t think it was relevant at the time to give precise details, but Selene placed him in orbit of the Earth as a second moon, and there’s not way for him to remove himself from it.”

Donald felt a bit of the anxiety lessen at the words, though he didn’t lift his head. “He deserved much more than that.”

“...now that I can understand what you say, I’m starting to wonder if you’ve always said dark things like that?”

Donald looked up, unsure what his expression portrayed, but judging from the concern etched on her features it wasn’t his best one. He reached out to the bottle, intending on pouring another one. Ms. Beakley grabbed the bottle, halting him from doing so. “Donald, I believe it would be best if I were to put this away.”

She eyed his shaking hand as he replied to her steadily. “I need to say something and I don’t think I can say it out loud without another drink.”

Ms. Beakley seemed to be hesitant. “Donald, are you alright saying what you’re about to? You seem to be highly anxious about it and I’m frankly surprised you wouldn’t say it to someone closer, like your sister.”

“I-I can’t...I-I can’t see her face when I-I...”

Ms. Beakley stared at him intently, before finally tugging the bottle away. “I’ll be putting this away now. You’re finished with this and I think it’s really a poor idea to rely on that to let yourself be able to speak in the first place. Why don’t you inform your therapist of this?”

Donald laid back into his seat, replying. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Even if I wouldn’t, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t sympathize for you, Donald. You are my friend you know.”

Donald appeared surprised. “I am?”

“Of course. Anyone that I’ve saved the word with is a close friend of mine, you including. We were involved with the Shadow War after all and you had an impressive attitude about the entire event. I didn’t realize until that moment the courage you possessed. Of course, I didn’t realize you had a Navy Cross either until I spoke to a mutual friend I wasn’t aware we had until your funeral.”

Donald paled, whispering. “W-Who told you that?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting you to react this way. And I think we both know who I’m talking about.”

“Y-You haven’t told Scoorge that I have one, right? He can’t know!” Donald felt panic gripping his heart.

“Donald, I don’t know any details, so there’s not much to say to anyone. It is after all classified information, but I was allowed to know that since that is public knowledge if anyone were to dig around for the articles on it. Are you alright? You’re acting very strange about this.” 

The duck shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I did and I don’t want you bringing it up again!”

“Does your therapist at least know? Or are they allowed to? It’s pretty clear this is causing you distress.”

Donald abruptly stood up, face appearing exhausted. “I’m done with this; goodnight.”

“Now, Donald, hold on a moment. Didn’t you have something to tell me?” She had stood when he had, reaching out for him.

Donald had whirled around, swatting her hand away, immediately crumbling towards the floor from the loss of balance. He blindly reached for the table, as Ms. Beakley reached out to try to catch him. She unfortunately didn’t make it in time and he found himself falling harshly on the floor a moment later. He cursed loudly and screamed furiously. “STUPID LEG!”

“Donald, are you alright?”

“WOULD EVERYONE STOP ASKING THAT DAMN QUESTION!” He roared, snatching up his crutch, and he stood it straight he up. He attempted to pull himself up, using the crutch to do so.

“Do you need he-?” She had bent over to reach out for assistance. 

“No!” He hissed at her, halting her movement. “I don’t need help doing something I’ve dealt with on my own for a year now!”

“Just because you’ve had it for a year, doesn’t mean you don’t require assistance sometimes. Della still has issues with her leg now and again that we have to assist her with and she’s had a prosthetic for twelve years now.”

He successfully pulled himself up onto his foot, wings trembling with the effort of lifting his entire body. “Well, it doesn’t matter what she does, BECAUSE I’M NOT DELLA!”

Della’s head shot up and she looked around wildly. Her words were slurred and her eyes were distant. “I’m up! I’m ready to go to school!”

“You’re 38-years-old and haven’t been school in over 15 years!” Donald shouted at her, before turning to Ms. Beakley. “I’m going to my room and no one is going to bother me!”

He furiously hobbled out of the room, attempting to calm his beating heart. He couldn’t believe he had even considered informing her of what had happened to him and she instead decided to nose her way into a topic he had kept hidden for years. He couldn’t share with anyone why he had his medal. He didn’t deserve it anyways. He had never deserved anything the military had tried to provide him. He shouldn’t have even been alive right now anyways. 

His dark thoughts returned to the past, his crutch pounding with each step his took, distantly sounding like far off explosives.  
*

“THIS IS MUNITY, PETTY OFFICER DUCK!” The dog bellowed at him from across the deck, clinging to the railing of the ship as it began to make a speedy turn. It was difficult to do so, as the pounding rain made that entire deck slick with it. The ship had begun to groan loudly at the sudden movement and was tipping slightly onto it’s side.

“I’M SORRY, BUT IF WE DON’T STEER THE SHIP FROM MAKING IT TO SHORE, CAPTAIN, WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!” He bellowed over the explosions that rumbled nearby, trying to steady the ship, so that it wouldn’t completely tip over. 

He gritted his teeth, tasting blood as he pulled as hard as he could. His wings and shoulders burned horribly from the effort. Donald would surely have incredible pain tomorrow, if they were able to survive this. The ship rightened itself thankfully and he sent a prayer above. In the distance there was the sound of gunfire and closer to him were the sounds of seamen screaming loudly. He steeled his nerves, trying to focus on the task at hand. It wouldn’t do for him to start to panic.

“IF YOU DON’T RELEASE THE WHEEL THIS INSTANT, YOU WILL BE ARRESTED FOR TREASON!” His Captain screamed at him, using the railing to edge closer to him.

“I WILL NOT TURN THIS BACK AROUND! WE WO-“ There was a huge explosion on the back half of the ship, rocking the very foundation. Donald stumbled forward, releasing his hold on the wheel, and face planted into the ground. “PHOOEY!”

Though the damage couldn’t be seen, judging from the way the ship was continuing to rock, it had been a huge one. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t push himself upwards. He laid there, trying to allow his balance to return, before he tried again. Later, he would hardly remember his surroundings, and much of what he was staring at would become fuzzy. Once he was on his hands and knees he looked around for the Captain. 

He saw the Captain lying on the opposite side, a pool of blood underneath his head from the impact he must have made when he fell down. As his ears began to focus back in on background noise, he heard screams of agony in the distance, and continuing gunfire. He tried not to linger on the casualties and crawled across the deck to the Captain.

Donald reached out, frantically feeling for a pulse. He sighed in relief as he felt one and wrapped his throbbing wing around the dog’s shoulders. They needed to get out of here immediately. He stood, legs shaking, and felt the back of head burning. He must have hit his head just as the Captain had. He dragged the unconscious animal towards the door, before pushing the heavy thing open. 

He was met with chaos.  
*

“I dreamed about the battle again last night.” Donald informed his therapist, finding his voice to be completely steady. As though it didn’t haunt him most nights lately, the pained screaming of the seamen lingering as he awoke each time.

“Haven’t heard you speak about that for awhile. Was it upsetting for once? I know usually it isn’t, but considering it’s a layer of your PTSD, perhaps things had changed for you.”

“No, I didn’t feel anything...I never do when I dream about it,” He confessed, hand massaging the stump of his leg. “Though usually a few hours after I few really weird.”

Jones frowned, pointing at his missing limb. “That bothering you?”

“Sometimes I can feet my calf, even though it’s not there. It kinda hurts sometimes, too. It sometimes feel like it did when I was...” He couldn’t finish the sentence, feeling a flush of anxiety rising underneath his collar.

“Phantom pains. You can feel the sensations of yourself removing it. It’s not something that will ever go away, but prescription medication could significantly lessen it. I think I should recommend you to a physical therapist. Or has your Uncle already arranged for one when you get your new leg?”

“...I don’t know if I will get one.”

“Why not? You’ve made it pretty clear that you hate your crutches and that you’re unable to maneuver without outside support.”

Donald rolled his eyes. “My uncle wants to pay for the whole thing and I’m not going to owe a thing in return.”

“Really? You’re being offered a leg for free and you don’t want to milk it for all it’s worth? Many amputates would kill to have their bill covered by the richest duck in the world.”

He balled his hands into fists. “I promise myself I would never owe him anything ever again.”

“I don’t think you will owe him anything. This only benefits you in every sense of the word. Donald, did you hesitate to benefit your nephews by turning to your uncle, when you were so low on funds that the risk of losing out on a interview would have made you unable to pay the rent of the boat space?”

Donald opened his mouth and then closed it. After a moment, he shook his head. “No, I would do anything for the boys. Even owe Scrooge.”

“And remember how that went? Scrooge didn’t expect a thing in return and you’re worried you’ll owe him so much, too.”

“I...I know, but I can’t keep relying on him! What if he wants to ask for something in return?”

“Why are you thinking that, Donald? Has anyone done that in the past to you?” Jones replied, frowning at his behavior.

“Well, no...but...Scoorge McDuck always cashes in his favors, why would I be any different?”

“Might have to do with the fact that you’re his nephew, but perhaps this is a topic you should speak about to him yourself. Or are you still not speaking to him unless you have to?”

“I don’t want to talk to him! I just want to not worry about owing him anything, which I won’t have to if I don’t have to owe him in the first place!”

“Nothing will change if you don’t speak to him. Didn’t your reunion with your sister teach you that?”

“I still don’t want to speak to her. She’s the same as always! Acting bigger than she really is. She spent the whole night making up some story about saving Earth, when everyone else did more than she did! I do-“

“Do you hate Della?”

The words stalled his rant, leaving him shocked. “I-what?”

“Do you hate your sister? Or maybe, do you hate that even though she’s acting bigger than she is, everybody still loves her, and everything goes her way?” Donald was shaking, eyes pooling with tears. “Do you hate that it seems like she gets more positive attention than you? Because after hearing about her from you for a few years now, I think I see how others have viewed the two of you.”

Donald whimpered, a tear rolling down his cheek. “S-She doesn’t get angry about every single thing, she doesn’t have a funny voice, she doesn’t always have a chain of bad luck wherever she goes, she doesn’t mess up everything like I do!”

“Maybe she does actually do all of that. Did you ask that of yourself? Perhaps what you believe to be favoritisms from others, is maybe you simply being more self conscious of your faults. I don’t know of the Della Duck today and neither do you, but perhaps she wasn’t conscious enough of her faults. She might be now for all we know, but she wasn’t before. You have anxiety over others’ perception of you, while she seems to lack it.”

“I...want to be like her. Even if she doubts herself, she never shows it. I really wish I could be.” The duck confessed.

“If you had been, the boys would have an unavailable Uncle. If you had been, you would have not saved the lives of your entire platoon. If you had, the Three Calabros would have never existed. If you had, so many things would have changed for others in your life. I know it’s hard for you to do, but maybe you should simply accept who you are and appreciate the good you have done in your life.”

Donald sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I-I don’t know if I can. I feel as though everyone’s lives would be better if I didn’t exist.”

“Donald, you know that’s not true. Take me for example. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t be in the business of being a therapist any longer. Nobody except for you would take a chance on a doctor that can barely afford his own practice, located in the worse possible neighborhood of Duckburg.”

“I mean...I didn’t really have any other choices and you were the cheapest.”

“I’m aware of that, but because you exist I continue to be a therapist. And I’m positive that everyone that cares about you would have a reason that you make an impact in their lives.”

Donald thought back on the kind things his friends and family said to him on his houseboat all those years ago and felt tears welling up in his eyes. “I...I have made a good impact...haven’t I? I want to believe...but, I don’t know if I can.”

“Donald, I believe you should join your family for their joint therapy session you mentioned they were having in two days. I think saying the way you feel and hearing what the others would have to say would impact you positively.”

“I don’t know...what if things go badly?”

“Well, you won’t know unless you go. I think it’s required for you to move on from what has happened to you.”

“I-I don’t think I can tell them anything...”

“Then at least sit there and listen to what they have to say. You can do that.”

Donald thought about it for a moment, before hesitantly answering. “I-I suppose I can at least once...”

“Then, what will be your plan for the meeting then?” He handed him the notebook he had lying on his desk and a pen, confidence gleaming in the therapist’s eyes.  
*

The meteor had mostly burnt up on rentry to the Earth, leaving behind a burning shell of a failing golden rocket, flames licking at it’s frame. The rocket vibrated violently from the force, hurtling towards land in the continent of Africa. By the time the collision had occurred upon the land, the ship had fallen to pieces. 

The crater left behind on the near a river burned wildly, the screams of a living being inside heard loudly. Lunaris clawed his way from the broken hatch, his body aflame. He crawled into a sand dune, calming the raging fire, but not the pain associated with it. He laid there, groaning feebly. His vision was growing hazy as sluggishly rolled over onto his back.

Lunaris observed the smoke rising into the cloudy sky, sun barely seen through his darkened vision. Before he lost consciousness, a lanky bird in a dark ruby dress hovered over him. He couldn’t seem to process who was before him, and his eyes rolled back into the back of his head, before he was gone from the day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Webby/Dewey.

”...and this concludes my seminar on why I believe that Uncle Donald has lost his mind.” Huey finished, folding back up his extendable pointer finger.

Webby clapped with enthusiasm, hair bouncing wildly at his presentation, while Louie shrugged as though he didn’t care that much about it. “Eh, I could probably do better.”

“At what, boring us to death? That was lame, booooo!” Dewey shook his head, pointing a thumb downwards.

“Always the critic...” Huey mumbled to himself, erasing the whiteboard he had managed to drag out into the back woods a few feet off from the mansion’s backyard.

“We didn’t need diagrams to know that he’s completely lost his marbles!” Dewey told the others.

“But the pictures were so cute! I think the one of Donald hissing was very life like!” Webby told Huey, who smiled in triumph at her.

“Thank you, dear Webbigal. I see someone supports my endeavors, unlike two unnamed brothers.” 

“Hey, I didn’t say that I didn’t support it, but I definitely could have drawn better pictures than you did, and not talk for like an hour straight.” Louie answered, as his red capped brother sat down next to them.

“Then why didn’t you?” Huey replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t really feel like it.”

“I think what we nearly need to talk about if what to do! We already know Uncle Donald has a few screws loose right now, but I don’t really know what to do.” Dewey was frowning, appearing mildly concerned.

“Ohhhhh, we’re throwing around ideas right now? How about if we put him in a tiny box, then ship-“

“I mean...maybe we should just...act the same?” Louie suggested, looking a little disturbed by her suggestion, unsure as where she was heading with her plan. “I know when I was first finding out that I had depression, I definitely preferred you guys all acting the same. It felt really weird when you guys didn’t.”

“Really? You never said that before,” Webby replied, blinking slowly. “Unless that was something talked about in a session that I didn’t join you all in.”

“No, I didn’t know you felt that way either until now.” Huey responsed, voice concerned.

“That’s really bothered you? I thought maybe if we were super nice that it would help you feel better.” Dewey told him, reaching out to hold his hand.

Louie held his hand back. “It kinda made me feel like you guys were babying me and I felt pretty lame. I’m still me, even if I’m really sad, and I would prefer if you guys always treated me like that.”

“Well, of course we will now!” Webby reached out to hold his other hand.

Huey huddled closer and placed his hand over Dewey’s, so that he could join in with their hold. “You know, I’m pretty glad we all went to therapy together. I feel like I understand you all a lot better.”

“Awwww, wou weally wike wus!” Dewey cooed at him.

Huey frowned and pulled his hand away. “Andddd, the moment is officially over.”

“Yep.” Louie agreed, pulling both of his hands away from them.

“Ah, darn. I really thought we were all having a bonding moment, too.” Webby sighed aloud.

“You guys can go ahead and make googley eyes at each other all you want, I think I’m going to find Uncle Donald.” Louie said, standing up, and heading back to the mansion.

Webby and Dewey stared at one another, blinking curiously. Huey frowned at their faces, a little puzzled. “Um, what are you two doing?”

“Do we like each other?” Webby and Dewey asked one another, faces flushing.

“Wait, hold on, are you two about to kis-?“ Huey asked, appearing vaguely horrified.

They leaned closer, their bills puckered up. Huey made a gagging noise and stood up immediately. He backed away slowly as they inched closer and he ran back towards the mansion. They could hear his wails of horror as he bolted. The pair both paused once they were alone and burst out laughing. “He actually thought we were going to kiss each other!”

“Did you see the look on his face?!” Dewey howled back at her, tears forming in his eyes from how hard he was wheezing.

“I know! He actually thought we were going to kiss each other! Can you imagine that?! You kissing me!” Webby gasped.

Dewey paused and narrowed his eyes at her. “Ha-what now? Why are you saying it like that? Is there something wrong about the idea of kissing me?”

“I mean...don’t get me wrong, but you don’t see exactly...” Webby stared him up and down. “You don’t seem exactly like you would be the best kisser. I kinda feel like you would be all sloppy.”

“And what? You think you could do any better?”

She flushed. “Well, I mean, I haven’t really...”

“What?”

“I...haven’t...really....”

“Wait, you haven’t ever kissed anyone, have you?”

“Um, not really...a lot of people think I’m kinda weird, so no one really would want to.” Webby answered, face appearing mildly dejected.

Dewey frowned at her voice, before whispering back at her. “Well...um, to tell you the truth...I haven’t either.”

“You haven’t? But you’re so outgoing and fun and...well, don’t people like that kind of thing?” 

Dewey glanced down at her bill, before his eyes darted back up to study her curious eyes. He found his stomach fluttering and his throat going dry. “I don’t know...do they?”

A blush appeared on her cheeks as she stared back, visibly gulping. “I...I think they must.”

The pair had inched back together once more, both staring deeply into one another’s eyes. A piece of hair fell into Webby’s eyes and Dewey’s hand shot out to tuck it behind her ear. Her flush deepened and Dewey found his hand cupping the side of her head. “By ‘they’...do you mean you?”

Webby leaned forward, reaching out to cup the back of his head. He felt a tingle go up his spine at the touch and found his hand dropping, as it had begun to shake from nerves. Her eyes fluttered, before shutting, and she gently pulled his face closer to her own. His heart pounded as he closed his own eyes. Her voice came out anxiously. “Do you...do you want this?”

“Yes...” He breathed, feeling himself allowing her to pull him the rest of the way. 

Their bills clumsily met, pressed up harshly against one another. He cringed at the roughness, before the pressure lessened. He found her bill to be soft where it met his and the gentle feeling of her against him soothed his nerves. His wing wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss. He flushed deeply as she made a noise of surprise, and then suddenly pulled away. “Sorry! I should have asked you before I did that!”

She blinked in surprise, before answering. “That was alright, I just didn’t expect you to do that...”

“Oh...well, can I...do that again?” He whispered shyly, feeling uncharacteristically nervous around her.

“Yes.” She answered, pulling him back towards her as they kissed awkwardly, obviously not experienced in the least. They continued on though, feeling happy to do so, held in each other’s arms alone in the forest.  
*

Louie continued towards the mansion, realizing the sun was beginning to set. How long exactly had Huey forced them to sit outside today? He vowed to never let his brother waste his time like that ever again. They all knew their Uncle Donald was unhinged, so it was beyond him why they had to discuss it for hours like they had. 

Huey and Dewey had returned only two days ago, but it felt like years at this point. In the past two days their Uncle Donald had returned and had turned their world upside down. He wasn’t certain how th-Was someone crying? He frowned, heading towards the houseboat. 

Was it Uncle Donald? He felt his heart grip tight with fear. He had only heard the duck cry once, years ago, begging on a phone call not to be fired, that he had kids, he needed the money. He hadn’t ever told his Uncle that he heard him that one morning, but he was terrified about the thought of having to listen to it again. Uncle Donald only cried if it was extremely serious and no one else was around. 

The duck cracked open the door, peering in. The glowing form of Storkules huddled up in a corner was seen. He clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide when he saw Louie was standing in the doorway. “Storkules? What’s going on?”

“ Llewellyn! I-I was simply-“ The demigod glanced around wildly, before grabbing a pepper grinder that was lying abandoned on the floor. He twisted the end cap, allowing pepper to sprinkle across the floor. “-was playing with one of your old trinkets!”

“Ugh, the name, what did I say about the name?” Louie groaned and stepped closer into the darkened room. “And that’s for food, dude.”

“Oh. Well, I was...” He visibly floundered.

The duck stared at him, eyes squinting into the light he produced. Was the demigod crying? Storkules quickly wiped at his eyes, confirming that there was a trickle of golden nectar spilling from his eyes. “Why are you crying?”

“I am not in distress! All is well!” Was the protest received as Louie sat down next to him.

“Right, that sounds like a lie. I would know. I’ve told a lot of them. Why are you crying? Did Uncle Donald say something dumb to you? I know he’s lost his mind, but I didn’t think he would be outright mean.”

The stork’s bill wobbled dangerously, eyes shining with tears again. “N-No, your uncle is not at fault, I promise.”

“Why are you crying all alone then in the houseboat? I thought your where with him.”

“I was...until my father sent his rage upon the land.”

“Was that what that noise was earlier in the day? We couldn’t figure it out. Webby thought it was the underground mole people rising to the surface.”

“I beg pardon?” Storkules blinked owlishly at him.

Louie laughed a little. “You don’t want to know. Here’s a word of advice: don’t bring that up to Launchpad. He’ll get really weird about it.”

“I...shall attempt no such activity if it were to upset Launchpad as much as you say it will,” Storkules agreed, looking quite serious. Louie put a hand over his bill, attempting to hide his laugh. “I would never do a thing to cause your loved ones discomfort.”

The duck stared at him with a frown on his face. “Hey, seriously, are you alright? You’re acting kinda...less than you usually are.”

The stork smiled gently at him. “You are as kind as your fair uncle...always wondering about the feelings of others.”

“Um, I guess? I don’t really ask a lot of people...I mean I’m pretty good at telling when people are upset, but I don’t usually ask unless it’s like a friend or like one of my brothers.” Louie shrugged.

“Nonetheless, I truly appreciate the kindness brought forth. I am fine, young Llewe-“

“Ack! No! No!”

“Excuse myself, young Louie, you may place your worries at ease. My issue at hand is that of my own. It is one I would have to seek a solution to cure.”

“...you’re going on another quest, aren’t you?” Louie questioned him, staring at the confidence beginning to return to the demigod.

“I believe that it is my destiny to do so. To seek answers for my woo and to cure what ails me. I might be gone for a fair amount of months...perhaps years this time.”

“Years? Seriously dude?” 

“Aye, young Louie. This is an ailment that would take a great deal of time to cure.”

“Are you cursed?”

The demigod appeared startled by his words, before slowly nodding. “As it seems as usual your insight is greater than expected, I believe it necessary to confirm. Yes, I have discovered a curse to be placed on me since my birth.”

“What is it?”

“I...I am uncertain I am comfortable sharing such private knowledge. Forgive me.”

“No, no, it’s cool. It’s kinda your own thing and I understand you not wanting to share...but, what about Uncle Donald? I think he...I think he needs you here right now.”

The stork seemed conflicted at the words and his glow seemed to wane. “I...I...he...”

“Ummmmmm, did I say something wrong?” Louie felt concern take hold and he realized he must have done something wrong to gander such a reaction. 

“I...I...m-my curse...” His head dropped onto his knees and he didn’t continue speaking.

Louie reached out to shake his shoulder, though he didn’t get a reaction to the action. “You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

The stork glanced up, a smile gracing his features and Louie felt himself relax immediately. “I apologize for concerning you. I was pondering my options and have decided you were right. My quest to cure my curse can wait.”

“Ok, good, because Uncle Donald has been...through a lot and I think he needs all the help he can get right now. He’s kinda lost his marbles.”

“I would do anything to assist my Donald in his recovery.” The demigod confirmed, as Louie stood up.

“Do you want to go inside? I was going to go find him to talk. Unless you’re still upset?”

Storkules shook his head, standing as well as he followed the duck to the doorway of the houseboat. “Nay, I am content. I should join in your search of your uncle, so that you may converse with him.”

“Cool, let’s go then.” Louie replied as they headed out the gangplank. He waited patiently as the stork shut the door behind him and they headed back to the mansion together. If Louie has been observant enough in that moment, he would have realized that the stork’s glow hadn’t been as bright as it had been before.  
*

“Ugh! Seriously, Huey!” Louie cried out as he went to open up the back door and Huey wildly slammed into his back, toppling them both over.

“Are you well, Hubert?” Storkules asked, standing above them, as the pair sat up.

Huey pointed wildly towards the forest. “W-WEBBY AND D-DEWEY WERE-!”

“What, they actually kiss?” Louie laughed at his reaction, before pausing and staring at his brother wide eyed. “I was just kidding, but did they actually...?”

“Young Webbigal and Dewey have been bestowed with Aphrodite’s love?” Storkules asked Huey, before smiling wide at him. “Ah, to be among the young, and to be benefited by her magic...”

“T-THEY HAD WENT TO K-K-K-!” Huey had gone off into a series of panicked quacks, pulling at the feathers on the side of his head.

“Ewwwwww!” Louie cried out, shaking his head. He flung open the back door, heading inside as he said to Huey. “We are never speaking about this ever again! I do not need to get that idea in my head!”

“Aphrodite knows how to locate the perfect match in our world. They always know what’s best for the good of love.” Storkules told them, as they both shuddered.

“No! I just said we’re not talking about this!” Louie plugged his ears, heading towards the dining room. It was dinner time after all and Uncle Donald was likely to already be in the dining room for a meal.

He had the door half-way open, revealing a glimpse of Uncle Donald, his mother, and Ms. Beakley drinking around the table. His mother had her glass raised high, voice echoing across the large room. “-and then I said-!”

He shut the door hastily, retreating backwards directly into Huey who nearly fell over, if it wasn’t for Storkules steadying him by the shoulder. Huey glared at him and groaned at him. “What the heck was that for?”

“Uncle Donald and mom are talking.” He whispered back to his brother.

“What? Ohhh! That’s good, isn’t it?” Huey questioned, nodding to himself. “Were they doing alright? Maybe Uncle Donald isn’t as lost as I originally suspected.”

“Friend Della and Friend Donald reuniting...” Storkules sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. “Siblings returned to one another after all that time apart!”

The triplets stared at him, eyebrows furrowing, before looking back at one another. Louie whispered to Huey, voice low enough that the demigod didn’t hear. “Why do I get the feeling that’s something he needs to unload?”

“I don’t understand though; I thought he had only been gone a few months. That’s not much time for immortal entities, is it?” He whispered back, hand covering his bill.

“We should allow your uncle and mother to their glorious reunion.” Storkules announced to them, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders.

“I’m honestly surprised they’re not fighting. Didn’t Uncle Donald day they used to be at each other’s throats?” Louie answered, as the trio headed upstairs instead.

Huey frowned. “When did he tell you that? Every time I asked him in the past about Mom, he would get all tight lipped. He would be like that when Dewey asked, too.”

Louie stared back at him and realized his brother seemed genuinely confused about how he knew. Uncle Donald generally hadn’t said much about their mother in the past, only a handful of one off comments. He had asked about her directly once, on their Uncle’s birthday a few years ago, when the other two had gone to bed, and he told a short story about how they would be constantly bickering as children. Donald’s eyes had welled with tears and Louie never again asked after that.

“Young Louie?” Storkules jarred him from his thoughts.

“Ummm, I mean he only kinda mentioned in passing once. He was just saying we fight like how he used to with Mom. I was too nervous to ever ask again.” He admitted after thinking about how to phrase it carefully.

“...I suppose I’m the only one that hasn’t had some secret in our family about knowing something...Dewey and Webby knew about Mom and and you heard a story about Mom awhile ago apparently...” Huey had begun to walk faster than them, his face unable to be seen.

Louie felt bad immediately, unaware that had been a secret. He hadn’t planned on it ever being and he had simply forgotten about it for a number of years until that moment. It was a secret none the less though. “Huey? Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t really think it was a problem. It was just something that I asked about and Uncle Donald was sad and he just told me how we all bickered like him and Mom. I honestly kinda thought it was a dream for awhile, because like he never brought it up again.”

Huey stopped and turned around with a sigh. “Look, I’m not angry with you. I’m just a little...jealous that you and Dewey knew something about her before I did...and I few sort of left out?”

“Hubert, I am confident that was not either of your brother’s intentions,” Storkules interjected, eyes stoic. “At times siblings are burdened with what they wish not to know and they wish to spare other cherished one’s the pain they must endure.”

Huey and Louie exchanged mutual looks of obvious concern about the demigod. “Ummmmm, yeahhhh...look, are you sure you’re alright, Storkules?”

“Of course, Friend Louie!” The brothers stared at each other, knowing it to be a lie immediately, but neither was brave enough to broach the subject. Neither felt as though it were wise to unpack such an obvious issue that was troubling him. 

“Uhhh, anyways, I’m really not angry with you, Louie. This is just a thing I was to sort through for myself.” Huey told him, returning back to the subject at hand.

“You know, it’s too early to say you won’t learn something none of us know about the family though. You know how many dumb secrets we keep unveiling, dude.” Louie assured him, patting him on the shoulder, as they continued down one of the hallways.

He was unaware how true that statement was.  
*

“-we should just leave him. I don’t understand why you brought him to here, babe. I mean his face is literally a godammed mess.” Drawled a New Yorkian accented voice off to his left.

“Considering he would be useful to our efforts, I thought it would be a good idea. And if you call me that one more time, you’re going to lose a finger.” A feminine voice hissed back at him, off to his right.

“Hey, hey, cool your jets! I just don’t think he’s necessary to our plans, you know?” The voice replied, sounding mildly unnerved by the threat.

“I really think this is a shit idea,” Another female voice joined yet, sounding younger than the other two. “I doubt that they’re even going to humor you for this. I mean honestly, I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know a thing; you are a child, with no experience in this type of thing!” The older woman hissed at her, sounding further away now.

“Yeah, but I have more use that you do in this. I’ve been better at the whole spy thing than you have been in your entire career.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Now, now, let’s not get our feathers twisted over each other! That’s exactly what they would have-alright, you have got to stop staring me with those glowing eyes now.” The first voice interrupted himself, sounding anxious.

“He does that to everyone; that’s his thing, Steelbeak.” Said the younger female voice, her voice oozing with all of the tolerance one could muster if they were speaking to someone they though had a lesser intelligence than them.

“Well, I know that, Dee, but doesn’t make it any less unsettling!”

“Shh! You fools, they’re coming back!” The oldest female hissed back at them, sounding closer again.

Lunaris blearily opened his eyes, feeling as though he were floating. He distantly saw the voices that had spoken out of the corner of his eyes, but his attention drifted over to a pair of metal doors hissing open. A trio of blurred shadows entered the room, their eyes ominously glowing from across the room. A loud booming voice was heard from one of them. “Now, what exactly have you interrupted our business meeting for?”

He felt exhaustion overtake him once more and drifted back off to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the scene between Webby and Dewey was a last minute idea that I felt would have been a good match. I haven’t quite decided how far out I would like to have their relationship go or if it’s even going to last, but I thought it was right for what I had in the story at the moment. It definitely won’t impact the overall story that much though, since it’s a minor plot point to the story.
> 
> I don’t have too many other notes for this chapter, as that new development of a relationship was what I thought needed to be addressed the most. I honestly cannot believe though how much people love my story right now and it warms my heart to know that readers are actually enjoying my content. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good. Would anyone else like to add onto that? I know we’re all nervous, but I think it would best for everyone to tell Donald how they feel that he’s here.”

”Are you ready, Donald?” Della asked him, as he continued to sit in the back seat of the limousine, while the rest of the family headed towards the therapist’s office.

He looked away from the opposite window he stared out of, back at her. His face remained perfectly neutral and he didn’t respond to her inquiry. The other duck gulped at his look, but didn’t ask him again. Launchpad’s voice chimed out from the front seat. “Hey, Donald, I need to go pick up DW from the hospital, remember?”

Donald looked to the pilot, who had remained facing forward while speaking. While he had the past two days off, Launchpad had insisted on being their driver once more. It was obvious he was still pained by his chest injury, as he couldn’t even turn around to speak to them. However, he seemed to be healing up rather quickly, and could drive the family again. “I know.”

Della leaned into the open passenger window as Donald began to remove himself from the vehicle. “He alright? I know you said he had some pretty bad injuries.”

“Yeah, but DW is going a little stir crazy, so I’m going to bust him out early. We both know how to deal with these kind of injuries by this point, so it’s nothing we can’t handle. I have to go now though. I’ll see you in a few days for game night!” Della slammed the door as Donald got out, the pair watching the car drive away.

Della looked to her brother, feeling nervous. It seemed lately all he wanted to do was yell at and avoid her. He hadn’t spoken to her in two days. It made her feel sick to her stomach. Scrooge suddenly popped his head out of the office’s door, appearing annoyed by their delay. “Are you two coming already? The session begins in two minutes.” 

“Yeah, just a second, Uncle Scrooge!” Della called back as he retreated inside. She turned back to Donald and took a deep breath. He stared at her blankly as she spoke what was troubling her. “Look, I know you’re...kinda upset at Scrooge and me, but I just want to let you know that I love you, and I do want you to feel better.”

Donald nodded tersely at her, hobbling towards the steps of the office without a word. Della felt her heart pain at the lack of reaction. He had always said ‘I love you’ back in the past and it hurt to know he didn’t say it at all this time. She followed after him and they entered the office together. The pair headed over to their family, who were speaking to the receptionist. Dewey had laid his elbow on the counter, smiling at the young robin sitting there. “Hello, we’re here for our 4:00 meeting.”

She smiled fondly at him. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing! How old are you? Eight?”

Dewey frowned, his arm dropping. “I’m 13-years-old...”

“Stop flirting, lad, so I can actually have ya ready for the session.” Scrooge cut in, pushing him gently to the side.

“What? I’m not flirting, I was just...” 

“Cheating on Webby when you guys have barely gotten together?” Louie asked, raising a disapproving eyebrow at him.

Dewey’s face flushed in embarrassment. “W-Webby and I aren’t-!”

“You were kissing her!” Huey hissed, appearing mildly unhinged, pointing at him.

Scrooge continued to speak to the receptionist as Della overheard them. She approached, hands on her hips. “What? Since when were you and Webby a thing?”

Dewey appeared more embarrassed than before. “W-We’re not! We just-! It was just a few kisses! It doesn’t mean anything!”

“Oh, so you’re just messing around with her then?” Della sounded irritated and disappointed.

“I-I’m not! We ju-“ Dewey appeared visibly frustrated as his brothers and mother glared at him.

“Louie, Huey, stop bothering your brother,” Donald demanded, his voice indicating a tone of seriousness. Della blinked in surprise at him, unaware that he could sound that strict to anyone. The duck turned to her, tone harsh. “And stop humiliating your son in public.”

Della felt her temper flare at those words. He was treating her as though she were child, as though she criticizing her son’s poor choices were wrong. She opened her mouth to retort, but Donald looked at triplets, eyes narrowed. “Apologize to your brother.” 

“But-“ Louie and Huey began, protesting as Dewey awkwardly watched his brother’s infer Uncle Donald’s wrath. 

“Now.” His voice had a cold edge to it and they all felt a shiver up roll up their spines. If she had known, she would have realized she was dealing with a Donald Duck she had never met. One that was born out of his most stressful moments of his life.

Huey and Louie were visibly anxious as they turned to their brother. “S-Sorry, Dewey...”

“Um, it’s ok...just, uh...” Dewey felt Uncle Donald watching with a definite frown on his face, feeling uncomfortable with the gaze he was setting on all of them.

“You lot ready? The therapist is coming out in a moment,” Scrooge had turned back around to inform and then frowned at the clear tension. “Did I miss something?”

“No.” Donald icily replied to him.

“McDucks?” The therapist has stepped out of his personal office, a warm smile on his face. Then room felt less tense, everyone relaxing slightly at his calling. “Are you ready for your first joint session all together?”

“Yes, we are.” Scrooge strode forward, the others following along as though they were young ducklings, Donald taking up the rear with slow gait. Once they had entered the room, they began to chose seats across from the therapist. 

“Alright, so, if everyone is ready we can begin,” He announced to the family, as they all got comfortable in their seats. He looked around at their anxious faces, most of them side eyeing Donald who appeared to be entirely indifferent to the situation. “I know today that we have Donald for the first time, but that shouldn’t make any of you anxious. That includes you as well, Donald.”

The sailor shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact with the other’s, but looked directly at the therapist. The man in question raised an eyebrow at the family. “Are we having a difficult time starting today? I’ve never heard the McDuck family so quiet before.”

“Uh,” Huey gulped visibly, everyone looking to him. The therapist smiled encouragingly at him as he took initiative to start. “I, uh, wanted to say that I’m...glad Uncle Donald wanted to join us, uh, today.”

Donald stared at his face continuing to be blank, though his eyes sparked with curiosity. The therapist nodded at Huey, but noticed the attention his uncle gave him. He jotted down a quick note, before speaking to the young duck. “I’m glad you decided to start today, Huey. Can you explain why you’re glad he did?”

“Uh, well, he’s been kinda...not like he used to be since he got back,” Huey didn’t look to his uncle, afraid of what his face would look like at those words. “And, I think him being here helps a lot. Or at least it helps me.”

“Good. Would anyone else like to add onto that? I know we’re all nervous, but I think it would best for everyone to tell Donald how they feel that he’s here.”

“Well, I think it’s really good that Donald is here,” Della answered after a long pause of silence. She looked to her brother, who stared at her with a careful face lacking emotion. She wanted to help, despite how much he was hurting her since he had returned. She always wanted to help him. “I know you’ve been struggling, a lot like I did when I got back from the moon, and I think therapy helps issues like that.”

“I know it has for me.” Louie pitched him, toying with the strings of his hoodie.

“Aye,” Scrooge agreed, nodding. “I believe that talking helps-“

“Talking?” Donald finally spoke, eyes hard. “You hate talking about your feelings. You always have.”

Scrooge seemed conflicted by the words, but didn’t say a word in his own defense. He couldn’t deny the accusation, because he had always been put off about talking about emotions in the past. He had been a huge flaw in his character in the past. The therapist didn’t blink an eye at his outburst. “Donald, Scrooge was still in the middle of talking and I think you should allow him to finish.”

“I don’t have to listen to him say shit like that! He would always close himself off when Della and me tried talking about feelings when we were younger.” The others squirmed awkwardly in their seats.

“I did,” Scrooge confirmed as the therapist nodded at him. “I was never very good with emotions. It simply wasn’t in my nature. I’ve learned how to though, Donald, and I’m willing to talk about anything that you want to.”

“Where was that when I needed that after the war?” The duck asked, voice rising in tone. The triplets appeared startled by his words, even Della surprised. They all knew he had been in the Navy and served in a war, but the duck never willingly spoke about it.

“Donald, where were you?” Della challenged, eyes gleaming with anger after she had gotten over her shock. “You disappeared for months after you returned. How was Uncle Scrooge supposed to listen if you didn’t want to talk? How was I supposed to help when you didn’t reach out?”

Donald opened and closed his mouth, unable to respond to the furious reply. Scrooge stared at him, worry evident in his eyes. “Where did you go, lad? Della and I were worried sick for months when you just up and left.”

The triplets waited with bated breathe, curiousity taking hold of them as Donald was now anxious, his perfectly blank mask reduced to nothing. The therapist suddenly spoke, voice stern. “Donald, I have something I need to make you aware of. I have a scale of 1-10 that tells me how upset the topic we’re speaking about is. Tell me your number when your family asks where you went?”

Donald bill wobbled, as the others stared at him awaiting a response. “8.”

Scrooge, Della, and the triplets seemed shocked by his answer, unaware how much distress the question had given him. “We will speak about something else then. We won’t touch that topic unless we find it necessary or you bring it up yourself. Louie, how about we tell your Uncle Donald about your depression?”

“Um, yeah, I can do that,” Louie responded, thrown by the abrupt change of conversation. He stared at his uncle, who seemed less distressed now that the topic was off him, but his eyes glimmered with fear. “So, uh, yeah, I have depression. I found out about seven months ago. I’m pretty sure it was there longer than that, but I didn’t really realize what it was yet. I kinda found out when you disappeared and we all thought you were...”

“You thought he was what, Louie?”

“...d-dead.” Louie whispered as he put his hands into his pocket and looked down at his lap.

Donald’s eyes had tears welling in them, but they didn’t fall as he spoke. While it was clear he was upset by the topic, he didn’t seem to be hiding his emotions behind a mask any longer. “...I’m sorry, Louie.”

Louie looked up from his lap, finding his uncle to be holding back tears. “It’s not your fault. I would have found out another way, even if you didn’t disappear.”

Della placed a hand over her bill at the emotional family moment. She was pleased that Donald was able to speak openly to her son. She was relieved he wasn’t attempting to be aloof any longer. Yet, she was saddened that the duck didn’t speak so openly to her as well. The therapist smiled at them. “See? That’s wasn’t too hard to discuss, was it?”

“It’s kinda getting easier to talk about.” Louie shrugged.

“I’m glad to hear that. Huey, Dewey? You two are fairly quiet. Is there anything you would like to pitch in?”

Dewey seem to be jolted from his thoughts, Huey twisted his hat in his hands. Dewey spoke, when it became clear Huey wouldn’t. He looked to his uncle, frowning. “I think you’re acting really weird since you got back.”

Donald frowned back at him, eyebrows furrowing. The therapist interjected. “Perhaps it would help if you explained what you mean by that.”

“I mean that Uncle Donald is being a big asshole to everyone lately!” Dewey burst out, slouching in his seat.

“Dewford Dingus Duck!” Della and Donald echoed one another, both staring at each other in surprise the moment it happened.

“Oh, come on! Uncle Donald can say ‘shit’ but I can’t say any cuss words? That’s really stupid and you guys both know that. Uncle Donald is acting really...I don’t know! You’re acting distant! You were all nice when we first all talked to each other for the first time in a year and then you got all mean!”

“Dewey, what is your number?” The therapist asked him, as the Donald stared at him in shock.

“Who cares?! It doesn’t matter, because this is session is utter baloney! I knew this wouldn’t fix anything with Uncle Donald!” 

“Dewey, dude, just say your number.” Louie urged him on, glaring at him.

“I don’t need to! It’s pretty obvious I’m pissed of!” The duck had balled his hands into fists.

“Dewey, maybe you should cal-“ Huey began, his hat squeezed tighter in his hands.

“If you say calm down to me I’m going to lose my shit on you!”

“Alright, if you don’t cease this nonsense this instant, I will have to take measures you would not like me to.” Scrooge, who had been attempting to allow things to play out on their own, had stood up, his cane slamming down into the wooden floor.

“Dewey, if you say one more curse word, I’m grounding you for the next week.” Della threatened as well.

Huey and Louie began to warn him to calm down, as their brother began to grow red in the face. The therapist spoke gently to him, voice light in a placating gesture. “Dewey, we just need to deescalate right away. Take a deep breath and-“

Dewey’s hands were clenched tight as possible and his frame shook with barely contained anger. His bill snapped open, about to release a scream of rage. He froze when he heard Donald’s furious voice erupt before his did. “JUST SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, ALL OF YOU!”

There was stunned silence at his screaming, Donald being left heaving and panting. Dewey had felt the anger completely drain from him and had stared at his Uncle in concern. His uncle always got mad, but he had never aimed it that way at any of them that he had seen before. “Uncle Donald?”

“WHAT?! DIDNT I JUST SAY SHUT UP?! I JUST WANT YOU ALL TO SHUT-“

“That is enough!” The therapist had interrupted them, Donald’s bill snapping shut. “You all are getting out of control. Since it’s obvious that you all need to breathe, you all will be separating this instant.”

“But-“ Scrooge had begun, raising his finger.

“Scrooge, I know that you are about to protest, but I will not allow my session to become absolute chaos. I want you all to walk to opposite sides of the room. Spilt yourselves up into which order you desire, but spilt up now.”

The ducks didn’t answer as they started to stand up to do as he said. Donald remained where he was, face stony. The therapist didn’t say a word to him, allowing the others to separate. Della, Scrooge, and Louie went to one side of the room. Dewey went to the other side, surprised when Huey followed along. He glared at his brother. “I thought you were just going to berate me like everyone else.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that. And I’m mad at everyone else because they weren’t being fair to you.” Huey answered, watching the other ducks stare at him in surprise.

“I want you all to take deep breathes and I will check on all of you in two minutes.” The therapist informed them, before standing himself, and walking over to Donald.

“Donald, please tell me what your number was when you were yelling, and what it is now.” His voice was low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.

“...a 9...” Donald mumbled at him, wings crossed over his chest. “I’m a 4 now...I don’t like this number thing. My therapist uses colors.”

“Well, I’m your therapist now, too. If you would like me to use the color system, I can, but I find the numbers to be less broad, and gives me a better idea on what you feeling.”

“Well, I’m feeling pretty shitty right now...”

“I can see where Dewey gets the cursing from.”

“I only cursed around them if I hurt myself. Otherwise I never really did when they grew up. They’re old enough now that it shouldn’t matter too much. Knowing him, he probably wanted kids to think he was cool and starting saying them, and now he just does regularly. Dewey never has done well with peer pressure.”

“Yes, Dewey does like seeking the approval of others. Even today when he was angry, he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. He wanted to have someone provide comfort and was met with anger back.”

“I wasn’t mad at him...I mean I’m pretty mad at him right now for saying everything he did.”

“Donald, are you mad at everyone else? You’re sounding like you are.”

“Why do you think I’m sitting here instead of going to calm down with them? I thought I could try this and that it would help. Jones-my therapist-said I should try this out and now I’m thinking it was just a big mistake.”

“Sometimes you need explosive anger, before you can tear down the core of the problem. While I’m not happy with how much yelling and anger was involved, the fighting was a sign that the first step is happening. I’m not saying this will be the last time it happens, but it means that progress is being made.”

“You let out the anger and the rest will follow.” Donald sighed out, tension leaving his shoulders.

“Did Jones tells you that? That’s very good advice. Do you try to follow that?”

“Yeah, he did. He says it a lot to me, especially when I’m having a hard time talking. I just hit the punching bag until I’m calm and then I can get to the other side.”

“That’s very good. Alright, I’m going to gather the others, and we’re going to try this again.” The therapist headed over to Scrooge, Della, and Louie. 

They spoke briefly, before the trio returned to their seats, Della looking to her brother, whom she sat next to. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Donald answered after a stint of silence.

She tried to school her face to hide her disappointment at his plain words. She watched Huey approach and sit on Donald’s opposite side. The duck didn’t look at them and Della knew she had yet another duck that was angry with her. She sighed to herself, watching the therapist speak to Dewey. After a moment she watched her son shake his head and he headed to door of the office, before leaving. Scrooge frowned, pointing his cane towards the door. “Where’s he going now?”

“Dewey has decided he would like to finish early today. If you must know, I brought up the topic to him first, to give him the option of leaving. While I’m not his parent so I don’t get any type of say in this, I wouldn’t recommend punishing for his behavior. I feel as though things that happen in sessions shouldn’t warrant them, as therapy can push people to their extremes at times.”

Scrooge seemed to ponder this and Della frowned at his suggestion. “What? His behavior was very-“

“No, Della, I believe we should agree with him on this one. The lad was lashing out only because of the situation. I should have probably not said I was going to ground him, but I already did. I think we should just let it drop for now.” Scrooge told her, nodding to himself.

Della crossed her arms over her chest and silently glared at her uncle. The doctor glanced down at his notes and wrote down something. He paused before harshly underlining. Scrooge frowned at the action, but didn’t ask the meaning. The therapist didn’t typically share his own notes with them. “Now, I believe we should address what happened with your outburst, Donald. Why exactly did your temper boil over like that?”

“When doesn’t it...” Della muttered.

Donald’s face went hard at the comment and the therapist sighed. “We are not here to make comments at others that you are perfectly aware with make the other upset, Della. Now, Donald, what exactly happened?”

“...too much noise...I’m used to things being quiet.” Donald finally admitted as the others listened.

“I would suspect as much, since you were the only person on the island you were stuck on. Was there another reason, too? I’m not doubting that was one, but I wanted to know if their were others.”

“I...didn’t like how everyone was treating Dewey...he’s... he’s sensitive and he doesn’t respond well to threats.”

“It hasn’t been a problem until now. If I threaten to ground him for misbehaving or not doing chores, he’ll immediately hop to it.” Della answered, shaking her head.

“Oh yeah? And he wasn’t afraid when you did?”

“What? Why would he be? Of course not!” She denied immediately, before turning to Scrooge. “He’s not afraid when you do it, right?”

“Absolutely not. It doesn’t come to it often, but when it does, he wants to do what’s right.”

The therapist nodded at them, before turning to Huey. The duck was rocking back and forth in his chair, uncharacteristic for Huey whom can sit still for long periods of time. “Huey? You look like you want to say something?”

“Uh...” He side eyed the two older ducks.

“Huey, you shouldn’t be afraid to speak your mind. Would you rather speak alone with me though?”

“No...just....uh...Dewey doesn’t like people being angry with him...he gets really nervous about it...he just wants to get along with everyone.” 

Della and Scrooge frowned at his words. She seemed to be thinking through interactions she had in the past, as the therapist turned to Louie. “How do you feel about this, Louie?”

“He’s...he’s not wrong...” He mumbled after a moment.

“I told you,” Donald replied, shaking his head. “As usual though, you two can’t see past your own bills.”

“Donald, we are not here to attack. You know your nephews well and have had years more experience than they have with handling them. It seems as though they weren’t aware of Dewey’s fears and were not able to react accordingly. Della, Scrooge, would you like to talk about this?”

Della was shaking her head, looking mildly dazed. Scrooge gulped thickly, before speaking to him. “I believe I would like a private session. Are you available directly after this?”

“I do have time after, but we will have to start immediately after if we do. Louie, Huey? Anything you two would like to speak about at this moment?”

Huey nodded, before turning to Scrooge and Della. “What I would like to say is that we shouldn’t be treating any of us like this. I though we were family and we’re all acting like...”

“...assholes...” Louie finished, frowning as he seemed to understand what Huey was heading towards.

Della stared down at her hands, heart racing. Scrooge looked away, bill clamped shut. Donald stared straight ahead, emotionless mask returned. The therapist’s voice was gentle and patient. “I think you two have clearly been heard. What I would like you all to do though, is to keep yourselves level headed if you speak about this outside of the session. I personally think it would be best if you all did activities to distract yourselves for the rest of the day and to think about how to address the issues you all face. Scrooge, I’ll be speaking more in depth with you as soon as the others leave. I hope you are able to center yourselves and our next joint session can be less intense. Have a good day, McDucks.”

Della was the first to leave, storming out of the room as though she were running from a monster after her. Louie was next, face shuttered in an expression of barely concealed anger. Huey followed after, face saddened as he glanced back briefly to Donald and Scrooge. Donald continued to sit there, his uncle raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t time for you to be leaving about now?”

“I want to join.” Donald answered, voice cold.

“What? I want a session alone with the therapist now, lad.”

“Scrooge?” The therapist caught his attention. “Even though you may not see it as such, Donald is extending an invitation to you. You would like to speak personally to your uncle with me here, right?” 

“I do.” Donald admitted, voice sounding less icy as he replied.

Scrooge blinked in surprise, slowly sitting back down, this time next to him. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Donald gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t...but, Jones said I should.”

“And he is right. You can’t avoid the issues you have with your uncle forever. You two need to attempt to sort out your issues. Are you comfortable with Donald hearing what you have to say about the session we just had before this? That is to say, are you alright with Donald being here?”

Donald’s eyes reopened and he turned to his uncle. While his face had been schooled once more, his eyes betrayed the emotion of anxiousness. The older duck felt as fearful as he did about this whole exchange. Despite his fear, he felt the feeling of love welling up in his chest. Despite everything, Donald still wanted to them fix this. As always, love did win out fear. “Aye, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donald finally joins the family therapy session! And, unfortunately everything goes wrong. Therapy isn’t meant to always be perfect, especially if your family members are all wildly different people. In this story, I’m not suggesting that Scrooge and Della have treated Dewey in an abusive matter, but I thought it would be good to showcase that even if someone means well, doesn’t mean that they’re not harming someone else. I feel as though Dewey feels misunderstood, just as Donald does frequently. He could see himself in his nephew, hence the defensive reaction when the entire family was upset at Dewey.
> 
> Next time we’re going to see how Scrooge’s and Donald’s session will go. As always, kudos and reviews are appreciated. See you all next week!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do this chapter!!

”I believe I should begin this session for you two, since it looks like your relationship is at a thread’s end. Does that seem accurate?” The pair glanced at one another, before nodding in confirmation to the therapist. “Alright, Scrooge, you seemed to be unaware of Dewey being upset when you would say you wanted to go through with a punishment, if you were to find it necessary.”

“Er, I wasn’t aware he was able to feel anxiety at such a level. I mean, I know he was capable of feeling like that, but I wasn’t aware he did as nearly as much I as thought,” Scrooge admitted. “Though his reaction during the plane incident makes more sense now...”

“You mean the one where you almost killed my nephews, again?” Donald growled at him.

The billionaire raised a finger. “Which they all survived! And the lads and I all made up after the Shadow War. As did you!”

“Yeah, but not before you betrayed their trust with what you said to them! Not before you betrayed my trust! I let you see the boys and let us live in the mansion with you and you did exactly what I thought you would! You hurt them!”

“And, again, they forgave me! Unlike how you’re willing to do so right now.”

“Donald, Scrooge said the three were alright when you all returned to the mansion. However, I can’t help but feel like it wasn’t conveyed that you held bitter feelings still about the event.” The therapist said to him.

“No, because as usual, nobody tries to understand me!” Donald spat back immediately, throwing his hands into the air.

“You know your lisp is hard for most people to understand, so forgive me if I have trouble sometimes understanding you even after all these years.” Scrooge grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not what I mean! You know that’s not I meant! It makes me mad when others don’t understand me, but I’m used to that. It hurts me more to know you guys don’t even try to understand how I’m feeling!” Donald cried out, fist slamming onto his leg.

Scrooge stared at him, bill gaping open slightly. “I tried for years to understand you, despite the fact you liked to hide away. I still try everyday, but I don’t understand what you want sometimes. You’re always angry and I don’t know how to fix that!”

“Donald, I know to you it doesn’t feel as though you’re getting enough understanding on your end, but from what I’m hearing from Scrooge he has tried his best to do so.” The therapist clarified.

“Well, he didn’t try hard enough...just like he didn’t try to bring us back before the Shadow War. I decided to go back to him, because I thought he had finally seen that family was actually important, but I don’t think he really did see it.” Donald’s head had bowed, voice watery.

“Donald, I...I did finally see. I really did. For years I thought I didn’t need anyone, but I realized that I always do need family. I...care about all of you more than you can even imagine. Very much...I...” Scrooge’s voice was shaking as he looked to the therapist for guidance.

“I know you’re able to say it, Scrooge. And your nephew needs you to.” The therapist urged him, as Donald looked up suspiciously.

“I...I...I-I love you...” Scrooge said to him, eyes wide with anxiousness. The younger duck frowned at him. While the billionaire hadn’t said it frequently, he had heard the statement from him before. How was this any differe-? The next word came from Scrooge’s mouth. “...s-son...”

Everything froze in that exact moment, his eyes widening from the weight the word held. The single one alone held the entire weight of the world crushing down onto Donald. Scrooge had called him son. His uncle thought of him as a son. His own father, a long off distant memory that he hardly thought on, had been absent most of his life. He hadn’t known what a father figure was and here was Scrooge calling him son. His hand rose, covering his bill in shock, unable to full process what he had heard. Then, he was suddenly grabbing at his crutch, frantic to escape. 

“Donald, what are y-“ The therapist begun, but Donald was already standing. He hobbled towards the door immediately, surprising the other two. The therapist stood quickly, yet not following as he spoke. “Donald, I can’t force you to stay here, but I truly think you should think about what your uncle just said. I don’t think you know the efforts he has gone through to get to this moment.”

The duck was already at the door, hand shaking as it rattled the handle. Scrooge’s bill was opening and shutting silently. His eyes were full of tears at the duck retreating, yet they didn’t fall. Donald didn’t turn around as he spoke, unknowingly being more like Scrooge than he knew. “I don’t care.”

Donald walked out of the office, allowing the door to slam behind him. In the lobby area sat the remainder of his family, Della standing in the center of the seating. They all looked to him as he hobbled away from the door. His sister was in his face immediately, confusion evident. “What took you so long? You were in there for at least twenty minutes. Were you in the same session as Uncle Scrooge?”

“Where’s Launchpad?” Donald asked, ignoring her questions.

“Uh, he said he was going to be late. He doesn’t really know how long, since he said he had something going on with Darkwing.” Huey answered, staring at him in concern.

“Really? You’re not even going to answer me?” Della asked, face scowling.

“Where’s you brother?” Donald asked Louie, who was staring at his phone until he was addressed.

Louie looked up from the text exchange between him and Launchpad. “Um, he’s sitting outside. Where’s Uncle Scrooge?”

“He’s going to be staying. If Launchpad isn’t coming, we’re calling a taxi.” The duck began to hobble towards the front door.

Della stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “We’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Scrooge is having his own session. We’re leaving, because I want to go back home right now.” Donald answered, shoving her with his shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” The receptionist called out to them, frowning.

“Everything is perfect!” Huey reassured her, shaking his hands at her as he stood in front of the desk. “We were just leaving! Have a good day!”

He hustled over to his arguing relatives, while Louie slowly sauntered over to them. Huey was frowning at them, looking visibly upset. “Please, please, don’t start fighting. I don’t want anyone to see it. I just want you guys to stop, please.”

Della’s face softened as she took in the words and Donald’s eyes widened at the pleading. Huey sounded on the verge of tears, despite the neutral face he was attempting to maintain. Louie was glancing over his shoulder every few seconds at the watchful receptionist, before holding up his phone to the group. “The Zoober is going to be here in a minute. Can we please just go outside?”

“Yeah, we can,” Della told them gently in a low tone, quickly opening up the door of the building for them to exit out of. Donald followed after the teenagers that already went out into the sun, while Della whispered to him in a hiss once they were out of earshot. “This isn’t over, Donald. I’ll just find out from Uncle Scrooge what happened later.”

He didn’t appear to be fazed by the words, as he followed after the others outside. Della sighed and allowed the door to shut behind her. Dewey was sitting at the bottom of the steps, scrolling through Tweeter on his phone. Huey was sitting next to him now, not speaking a word, and Louie was standing by the curb of the road. Della hopped down the steps, as a van that was called pulled up beside Louie. The driver rolled down the window, calling out carelessly. “Ms. Duck?”

She blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah, that’s me...”

He rolled his window back up, as Louie opened the rear door for them. Dewey went inside first, completely silent, with Huey trailing after. Della paused at the open door Louie stood by, frowning at in in suspicion. “Did you make a Zoober account using my name, without asking me?”

Louie stared her, smiling slightly. “...no, of course not.”

“And, because I’ve been too busy with work to notice, been using my funds?”

“....no.” He responded after a brief pause, smile steady as it was before.

“Louie,” Donald’s voice didn’t sound as cold as it had earlier. He sounded exhausted, yet tense, like how he sounded when he worked a back to back shift. The two immediately noticed the tone for what it was. He hobbled closer to the open car door, eyeing his nephew. “You’re not allowed to use other people’s names for yourself. I told you this last time and if I tell you again, you’re going to find yourself grounded for a month.”

Louie nodded immediately, knowing his tone not to be one to argue with. While the answer didn’t make him worry, as Donald would cave early if he had good behavior, he didn’t want to push his uncle when it was clear he needed rest. “Yes, Uncle Donald.”

The young duck hopped inside the van, getting into the back row alone. Della stared at her brother, scowling. “How did you get him to do that right away? The boys listen to me when I say stuff like that, but usually it’s an uphill battle to get them to do so.”

“Because, I’m not the fun uncle.” He responded with a glint of an unknown emotion in his eyes, before sitting in the front row next to Huey. Della rolled her eyes at his response, though she felt uncertain about what his response implied. Being fun wasn’t a bad thing...was it? She shook her head before getting in the back seat, next to Louie. 

Donald slammed the door shut, the others buckling in, before the van slowly pulled away from the curb. The driver looked up at the rear view mirror to look at them. “I think you might have put the wrong address in, because it says McDuck manor.”

“No, that’s right.” Della called back, voice raised so he could hear her from the back row. Huey had decided to put on his noise canceling headphones, playing music so that he wouldn’t have to hear the arguments that typically ensued from these type of conversations. 

“I hate to break to you, but I doubt Scrooge McDuck is gonna let you in.”

“Well, since he’s not home right now, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You guys aren’t going to try braking in, are you? I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it, but I have a camera in here, and if I knowingly take you there and that happens, I could be booted off as a driver from the app.”

Della rolled her eyes. “Considering I’m his niece, I doubt that’s going to be an issue.”

“Niece? There’s no way. She died like eight years ago.”

“Twelve.” Donald corrected, staring out the window.

“Uh, yeah, twelve years ago,” Della confirmed, surprised Donald has corrected him instead of staying silent. Dewey had plugged in his headphones, rolling his eyes at the words. He usually enjoyed the drama that broke out when Della had to contradict people about her living status, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. “And as you can clearly see, I’m alive. It was just a mistake and I’m back now.”

“Huh, fancy that. Scrooge McDuck’s niece, Della Duck, back from the dead. Shame about your brother though. Sorry he never came back.” The driver answered, unaware of the impact he had with those words. 

Donald’s head pressed up against the window. Louie felt his face heat up, anger growing in his gut. Della placed a hand on his shoulder, when she noticed his furious face. She shook her head at him, while replying. “No, my brother is very much alive, too.”

“Man, your family likes to cheat death, don’t they?”

“That’s our job,” She responded, tone indicating she was finished with conversation. The driver seemed to get the hint and turned the radio on low a moment later. Della looked at the back of her brother’s head, before whispering to Louie. “Just have to let some things go, baby.”

“...it’s hard to let something like that go.”

“I know, but he doesn’t know any better. Some things are worth arguing about, but this isn’t one of them. He would just find something else to say. They always do.”

“If you say so, Mom...” Louie mumbled and looked to his uncle’s head. He froze when he realized he could clearly see his uncle’s reflection in the window from where he sat. Tears were streaming down his face and his face looked anguished. The duck didn’t make a single sound, but he was confident he would sound similar to that time he heard Uncle Donald in the middle of the night about their finances years ago.

Louie wanted to say something, say anything to his mother about what he was seeing, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. He knew if Donald was going to the effort of being that quiet and hiding his face against the window, that he didn’t want others to know. After all, it was what he would want. He glanced down at his phone, trying to not look back up again.  
*

When they had returned to the mansion, everyone got out, and headed inside to go their separate ways. Only Donald remained, the duck hobbling to the doorway on his own. Della had left it open for him, though she hadn’t stuck around for him to talk. Louie knew his mother was probably going to go work out to take her mind off of today. That left the young duck standing at the top of the stairs, watching his uncle struggle up them. The duck noticed him suddenly, looking confused. His eyes appeared mysteriously dry, as though he hadn’t been crying at all. He wasn’t certain how Uncle Donald had done it, but he began to wonder how much practice he had. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.” He simply responded.

Donald narrowed his eyes, hobbling up the first step. “What are you up to? I’m not in the mood to deal with it.”

“Hey, hey, I’m just trying to be nice to my uncle, whom I adore!” Louie answered, trying to remain causal, despite his worry.

Donald got to the top of the stairs. “That’s it. What are up to? I don’t have the energy for this right now, Louie.”

Louie’s smile wobbled, trying to say as normal as possible. The duck glared at him, genuinely thinking he was planning something devious, when all he wanted to do was make sure he was alright. He needed to be usual self though, make Donald feel as though everything was the same. “I mightttt be up to something.”

Donald didn’t respond and simply glared as he headed inside. Louie tried to not feel hurt by the reaction. He knew his uncle was hurting right now, but he was going to act as normal as possible for his sake. While the rest of his uncle’s life was a struggle at the moment, it was the least he could do to make the struggle easier. The duck was heading up the main staircase alone now, not even giving Louie a goodbye. The young duck was left by himself by the door, feeling completely lost. He tried not to cry.  
*

The moment the door was closed to the office, Scrooge stared straight down at the floor, a heaving breath released from his chest. His vision blurred and he gasped loudly a second later. A rattling wet noise was heard, before a choked sob was finally let out. The therapist’s voice was gentle, barely heard through the wave of anguish. “Scrooge, I know you are in a lot of pain from hearing him say that, but I need you to stay calm.”

He let out a pained laugh, before it evolved into another harsh sob. Tears rolled down his cheeks, onto the carpet below. His frame was shaking, Donald’s voice echoing in his mind. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. His fists were tight, feeling his heart clench. “Scrooge, can you hear me?”

“H-He doesn’t even-“ Scrooge made a hitchpitched whining noise as he cut off, knowing his voice must sound completely unhinged. 

“Please, take a deep breath. You’re feeling shock from what Donald said.“

The billionaire wheezed, before beginning to sob brokeningly. His throat burned immediately from the force of it, the noise of his cries loud enough to hurt. One of his hands raised to grasp at the feathers of his head. He squeezed them and pulled harshly. He couldn’t even think anymore. All he knew was pain and he couldn’t do anything other than let himself destroy his vocal chords. He could hardly breathe, each breath of air blocked by a new cry.

“You’re hyperventilating and I need you to focus on me. I know you may feel as though everything is hopeless right now, but it truly isn’t. Donald wasn’t prepared to hear what you were saying, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be in the future.” He wasn’t certain when the therapist had squatted down in front of his seat, but suddenly he was there.

He looked up, everything blurry from his tears, realizing that he was actually hyperventilating as he sobbed. He suddenly couldn’t anymore, his throat so pained by his cries, that he physically couldn’t hyperventilate any longer without passing out. He laid back in the chair, slumped. The therapist was nodding at him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Can you breathe easier now?”

Scrooge felt so drained, even though it barely lasted three minutes, yet it felt as though it had been hours. He didn’t have the strength to verbally answer, so he simply nodded. Silent, slow tears continued down his face. “I know you hurt right now. I know how long and how many sessions we had before we helped you plan that out. I know the plan wasn’t to say that then, but plans do change. There shouldn’t be any regrets that you had to change. I truly think Donald needed to hear that right now. I didn’t think he would leave like he did, but he probably needs time to process that.”

“...h-he...” He gasped hoarsely. “...d-doesn’t...”

“He may say he doesn’t care, but his reaction was a clear indication that he did. His reaction wasn’t what you deserved, but it was a reaction nonetheless.”

Scrooge shuddered, shaking his head slowly. His voice felt stronger, to protest. “He doesn’t...Donald really doesn’t care that I think him to be my own...s-s-s...”

“I don’t think that’s true at all, Scrooge. I feel as though he’s just in shock from what you said to him. You have choice from here though. You could either try again or give up. I know it’s really tempting to give up, but you can’t. You’ve come this far and you know you need to try again.”

“I-I’m a old duck...I don’t think I have it in me to try again. I don’t think I can handle...” His voice croaked.

“You said the same thing when Donald was presumed dead. Do you remember what happened though? You were able to. You were starting to move on from it. That’s how I know you can do it, again. And, If I know anything from the many stories you’ve told me since I’ve become your therapist, you’ve always survived. I know this, because one of my clients likes to say...‘I’m smarter than the smarties, sharper than the sharpies’...”

Scrooge stared at him, feeling as dejected as he did before. But a sudden spark of hope was ignited in his chest at the words. He had survived heartbreak before, he could do it again. It had nearly killed him many times, literally and figuratively, but he couldn’t just give up. He sat up straighter, voice, and confidence returning. “...and tougher than the toughies.”

The therapist nodded, before standing back up. “Would you like me to guide you through your mindful exceries?”

The billionaire nodded, wiping off his tear stained glasses with a cleaning cloth from his coat’s pocket. He placed them back on his face, adjusting his suit after it had bunched up during his panic attack. He could do this, just as he always did. He was a survivor and he would never stop being one. If he had made it this far, surely he could continue on until the very end. “Aye, go ahead.”  
*

“Status?” A voice crackled in her ear, hissing quietly.

She raised her binoculars, peering into them to the well lit windows of the mansion. She noticed Della Duck, aggressively attacking a punching bag with all of her might in the gym. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her ponytail swishing wildly with each punch she threw. She pressed her finger against her ear piece to speak. “Subject D. Duck is in the gym, showing signs of aggression. High stress day.”

She pointed her view upstairs, to the darkened windows. The night vision mode was activated, observing Huey and Louie snoozing in their beds. “Subject L. and H. Duck are sleeping. Status of Subject D. Duck Jr is unknown.”

She pointed the binoculars a few windows away to another darkened room. Webby was scrolling through her tablet, reading a novel before bed in her own room. “Subject W. Vanderquack is reading, appears to be stress free. Uninvolved with the situation that caused stress for D. Duck.”

She glanced to yet another darkened window, to Donald, whom sat at the edge of the bed in the dark. His face was buried into his hands, body shaking with tension. “Subject D. F. Duck in bed, postition suggests he is highly distressed. Likely involved with same stressful situation.”

She peered into a few rooms before locating Ms. Beakley who was found in the dining room, sipping tea as the duck read a bedtime novel. She ground her teeth, voice coming out with harshly contained bitterness. “Subject B. Beakley is in the kitchen, unaware of her vulnerable position.”

The ear piece crackled to life, voice stern. “Your mission is to study and to not engage.”

She hissed our in return, trying not to lose her temper. “Understood...S. McDuck is unable to be located. Unusual for the time, but not completely out of character.”

A limousine suddenly pulled up to the driveway, stopping by the doorway. The driver got out, revealing a sleepy Launchpad to be who was in charge of the vehicle. He stretched his arms high above his head, before going over to the back seat. He opened up the back door, revealing Scrooge McDuck to be stepping out. “S. McDuck has arrived back home. Body is tense, suggesting high stress to be in the day as well.”

“Very good.” The voice praised her in her ear. She tried not to shudder at how disturbing the voice sounded to her. Instead, as the spy she was, continued on with her duties she had been bestowed with.

“Day 310 of observation completed. Subjects continue to be unaware of being studied. No updates to status of family or new major life events. This is Black Heron, finishing her report for the evening.” She finished, eyes gleaming with the revenge she dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you all are holding grudges against me now, especially after making Donald walk away from Scrooge! For Donald who had never known a father, this was a huge bomb to drop onto him when he was already struggling. He hadn’t thought that his uncle would ever feel such a way and know that he did was mind boggling to him. Donald hasn’t even fully forgiven Scrooge either. Forgiveness is hard though and what I’ve learned is that you’re not required to forgive anyone for an action, no matter what they’ve done for you in the past. Sometimes what they have done is inexcusable and all you can do is accept that. 
> 
> All always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I can’t believe how much readers enjoy this story and it makes me happy to know that you all enjoy my crazy Ducktales AU. Thank you everyone for supporting me like you have. See you next week!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for dissociation, starting after “I-I n-need t-to...!” and ending at “S-Stop shaking me, p-please.”

”...we’re going to talk now, Don!” The voice suddenly rang out in the darkness, light above him flicking on abruptly. He jolted up into a sitting position the moment it happened. His heart pounded at the intrusion, feeling as though he were immediately in danger. A moment of his eyes adjusting and his blood pumping through his veins, he realized he knew the voice. He blinked nervously at her and Della was tearing his comforter from his bed. “Get up now!”

“D-Della-“ Donald stifled the stuttering, resulting from his shock of someone suddenly waking him up. His heart was still pounding, but now he was pissed. She had come in here like she owned his room and it had taken all of his will power not to lash out when he thought a stranger had come in. The temperature in the room seemed to rise and he blurted at her. “What the hell? What are you doing in my room?!”

“Waking you up, obviously! First of all you’ve been asleep longer than you should have been, and because I’ve told you that our conversation isn’t over. You’re going to tell me right now what happened yesterday.”

“Leave me alone! I’m not dealing with this right now.” Donald laid back down, throwing his pillow over his head.

The pillow was ripped away and he rolled over, glaring at her spitefully. Now his heart was pounding in anger, instead of anxiety. She rolled her eyes, dropping the pillow on the ground. “Nu-uh, you’re not getting away that easily!”

He threw his wing over his face and hissed in irritation. “I’m not talking to you about this! Just get out of here, Dumbella!”

“If you call me that one more time, you’re going to find out how well I’ve honed my boxing skills this past year. Launchpad has taught me a lot, more than I even thought the guy knew, and you don’t want to know about that mean left hook he taught me!”

Donald threw his wing from his face and he yelled at her furiously. She was acting like she was superior to him and he couldn’t let her get away with that. “I can literally fight you with one wing behind my back!”

She narrowed her eyes and pushed up her sleeves. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you prove it then?”

Donald rolled his eyes. “I’m not fighting you!”

“Yes, you are! And don’t act like I couldn’t take you. You know I’ve laid you flat on your ass in the past and can do it again.”

“I’m not fighting you, because I don’t want to! I just want you to-!” He made a strangled noise and swung his fists around, pounding them on the bed. Then he pressed his palms over his eyelids. He felt all of the energy drain from him in an instant. An exhale of exhaustion was released as he spoke. “Please, I don’t have the energy for this...”

He knew he had been using that excuse more and more often, but it was true. He had been so furious his entire life, but now his body just seemed to be giving up more easily when he succumbed to his rage. He pulled his hands from his face, revealing his sister looking frustrated. “I don’t understand the way you’ve been acting. Ever since you came back almost a week ago, you’ve been acting really bizarre. Especially after you disappeared with Scrooge during his therapy session yesterday. You know he didn’t come home until late yesterday? And I didn’t even get to talk to him. By the time I came to the staircase he had already gone up to his room and Launchpad said he didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Donald shook his head, unable to make eye contact with her. “It doesn’t matter...”

“Yes, it does! You two are always at each other’s throats and-are you plugging your ears?!” She howled reaching out to grab his wings.

He shrugged her away, yelling back at her. “I said it doesn’t matter! I just want you to leave me alone!”

“No! I am never going to-“ She was wrestling with him on the bed now, trying to pull his hands from his ears. “-leave you alone! I always would leave you alone in the past and then nothing would ever get fixed!”

“Get off of me!” The sailor shouted back at her, attempting to push her back off of the bed.

“No-!” 

“Let go!” Della had rolled partly on top of him and his leg lashed out to kick her off of the bed. 

“Stop kicking me with your leg! I swear to god, I’ll kick you back with my metal one!” 

They were now rolling around on his bed together, the pair grabbling furiously with each other. They were quaking loudly, both at the top of their lungs. Della had tugged one of his fingers away and was screaming into his ear for him to listen. He finally ripped his other hand from his ear and screamed back into her face with all the strength he could muster. “I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH YOU ANYMORE! JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!”

Della blinked in surprise at his loud outburst, before she hissed into his face wordlessly. He frowned, eyes wide in shock by what she had done. “Did you just hiss at me? You can’t do that! That’s my thing!”

“I can and I did! If you’re going to act like an immature 5-year-old, then I’m allowed to!” Della was lying on her side, arms crossed over her chest.

“You already act like a little kid everyday!” He argued back, pulling at the feathers on top of his head. “How are you even holding a steady job?!”

“What? Like it’s hard? Oh, I guess it is for some people, isn’t it Donald?” She taunted, lying there with a smug expression on her face.

His face heated up in anger at her words. She had no idea, absolutely no idea how hard that had been for him all theses years, especially when he had to worry about providing income for the boys all on his own. “You have no godamned idea the trouble I’ve had to go through all these years with jobs! All the hours wasted applying, all the hours trying to find jobs, all the hours I’ve struggled to make ends meet for the boys!”

“Oh, boo! You were just too stubborn to go back to Uncle Scrooge when you needed help! You were perfectly capable of doing so, yet you just holed yourself up all those years! You would rather be pissed off about me being dead, then finally moving on, and doing what was best for the boys!” She had sat up, throwing her hands into the air.

“You would never understand what I went through! And you gave up on me without even trying to believe I was alive, while I believed you were for years! I never thought you were dead! I never thought it even after a decade of people giving condolences for your death five times a day!” He finally exploded out, revealing a secret he had kept to himself after years of hiding it.

She froze, staring at him. “What? You thought I was alive? But, Uncle Scrooge said you...”

“Well, I say a lot of things! Just because I said you were dead, doesn’t mean I actually believed it! I had to say something to the boys when they asked and I couldn’t let them have the same delusion as me!” He was laying there, tears rolling down his cheeks as he yelled back at her.

Della laid back down, face twisted into pity. The two laid side by side, twins mirroring one another. Della stared at him, eyes shining. “I guess even after all these years, somebody was expecting something of me, weren’t they?”

Donald stared back at her, watching tears beginning to roll down her face. “Huh? I don’t...understand.”

“Everyone has always been expecting things of me...they expected me to do great things in the future, they expected me to find someone nice to settle down with, they expected me to be dead after I stole a rocket to the moon, they expected me to be a great mother, they expected me to look for them when I thought they were dead. It was always somebody expecting me to do something and I never did!”

Donald hadn’t expected her outburst, he hadn’t thought she was this stressed about what others thought she was going to do. “How...how long have you felt this way?”

“My whole life! Can’t you see, Donald? People expected great things from me, they always expected me to do better than everyone else. But, I never have.” She explained, appearing visibly distressed.

Della had always been full of confidence, unswaying in her belief that truly she could do everything. Everyone had always believed in her and she had believed in herself without a doubt. Donald didn’t understand where the sister he knew was. “Where...where is this coming from?”

She continued on, as though she didn’t hear the question. Her wings were wrapped around herself, being protective of her body as she cried. “The one that has always done better was you!And, nobody ever noticed! I didn’t understand how nobody ever did, how they thought I was doing great. My life has gone nowhere. I mean, for god sake I work at a grocery store! I mean there’s nothing wrong with that, for people that like that kind of thing, but I’ve always craved adventure. I’ve been stuck working there for eight months and I’m already losing my mind!”

Donald flushed. “What? Me? I don’t even do that good, so I don’t even know what you’re talking about. And you’re not...you’ve done so much? I don’t understand how you’ve always felt like this? I don’t understand!”

“Ugh, no one does! I’m trying to say that I haven’t done all that much! I haven’t won any majors awards, I have a string of one night stands in my wake, I don’t have any career I’m heading towards, I don’t have any ambitions.”

“But, yo-“

The words flowed from her bill, as though she couldn’t control what she said next. “I didn’t even want my kids! Do you know how messed up it is to say that about the kids you have? That you never even wanted them?” 

Her hands were covering her eyes now and she was weeping. He couldn’t breathe, the air having been sucked completely from his lungs. The duck couldn’t even fathom what she had said. “You...didn’t want them? You don’t...love the boys?” 

She immediately looked up, face stricken at the suggestion. “Of course I do! I love them with all my heart! They were my motivation to get back to Earth everyday I was stuck so far away from home. I...I love them to the moon and back!”

“Why...why are you saying that then?”

“I wasn’t ready to be a mother...I didn’t even want to be one. I...I still don’t want to be. I want to explore the world, I want to travel, I want to make a difference! I love...I love Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but I don’t think I can stay here anymore.” Della was staring at her hands, eyes wide.

Donald felt sick to his stomach at what she was implying, as he slowly sat up. “Della, you’re just going to abandon them?”

“I’m not abandoning, I would just...be going on an extended trip...Donald, I need to do this,” She was sitting up as well, wiping her tears away. “You understand, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. You’re abandoning the boys...you’re abandoning me, again!” Donald felt betrayal at the words and his body trembled.

The duck stared at him in confusion. “What? I’ve never left you-“

“What do you call stealing a rocket ship to the moon then? It was accident that you didn’t come back, but that doesn’t change the fact you were just going to run off without any of us,” Donald sagged into the bed. “Della, I can’t do this again. Please, just...”

“Donald, I’m not doing anything wrong! You’re acting like I’m never going to return, which is absurd!”

“No! You are! You’re just going to leave your entire family again!”

“I’m not-!” She paused and groaned loudly. “Look, I’m not leaving, I’m just going on a quest to find myself.”

Donald thought to himself, realizing she truly didn’t care about what she was about to do. He couldn’t let his sister do this to him, to Scrooge, to the boys! He could barely get the words out as he finally spoke them. Donald needed to say this or he would just let her hurt them all. “...p-please, promise me...if you leave, please don’t come back.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t come back, because I will be telling the boys and Scrooge you actually died this time. It’s better for them to believe that than to know you willingly left. They won’t...they won’t survive this if you go through with leaving.”

She stood up from the bed, glowering at him coldly. “Oh, so you’re just going to lie to them?”

“No,” His eyes burned with the tears he held back. “I’m going to protect my family from you hurting them.”

“I am part of your family, you asshole! You’re overreacting, you know that? You’re acting like this is the ultimate crime that I want to find myself, when this is really about you throwing a fit because I decided to do this for myself!”

Donald could feel his temper rising, face reddening. He was upset she was just going to leave him, but he was furious what that would do to his boys, what it would do to his-“I’M NOT GOING TO LET YOU HURT MY SONS!”

“What...did you just call...?” Her face showed shock and then she suddenly looked as furious as he was. “Your sons?! How dare you? They’re my sons!”

“Really? Because you’re about to abandon them like they’re nothing! And, I raised them! I was the one that was there every step of the way, while you spent ten years on the moon because you wanted to go for a joy ride instead of thinking of the eggs! I was there when they said their first words, when they lost their first tooth, when they started their first year of school! I saw all of their milestones and was there for every moment, so yeah, I’m going to call them my sons! Because they are my sons!” The duck was panting and shaking after saying the words.

“You are not their father, Donald! Their father was just-“ Della cut herself off, not revealing any further details onto who their father was. “You are only their uncle and I think it’s time you realize that!”

“What are you even saying!?” 

“I’m saying, that the children will be the ones to tell you the truth!” She had turned around, heading towards the door way.

His heart sunk heavily into his stomach at the words, realizing where she was heading to. The door had been flung open, as Donald reached out in her direction. He stumbled forward, off of the bed, falling painfully face forward in the ground. The noise startled his twin, who turned around, and her eyes widened at the sight. “D-Della-!”

“Oh my god, Donald, are you ok?” She had returned immediately as he crawled forward. 

Della had fallen to her knees before him, as he pushed himself unsteadily onto one of his own. She reached out to hold his forearms to balance him as he panted anxiously into her face. “P-Please, you can’t tell them I said that!”

The angry look returned at the words, though she didn’t let go as she spoke. “Oh, where did all that confidence about them being your ‘sons’ go now, huh?”

“I-I don’t want them to...” He was hanging his head, terrified of what they would say in response. What if they rejected his desires, just as he rejected...? “U-Uncle Scrooge called me his...h-his s-son.”

Her eyes widened, as he sat back onto his behind. She slowly let go of his forearms, shock obviously written across her face. He pulled his knees to his chest, before burying his face into them. Her voice was trembling as she asked. “A-And...what did you say in return?”

“...I didn’t say anything. I just...I just left...I just walked out and...I just felt so angry...how could he just...?” Donald could feel his anxiety washing over him in waves as he pitch of voice rose in power.

“You didn’t respond? You just walked out in the middle of a therapy session?” She sounded disbelieving at the knowledge he didn’t communicate in return.

She was furious at him, he could clearly hear the tone of her voice. She had been already upset about claiming his nephews as his sons and now she knew what he had done to Uncle Scrooge as well. He felt sick to his stomach. He was about to...shut down. His hand was covering his bill as his head shot up. He needed to tell her he was going to have an episode or she was going to be more angry when he didn’t respond. “D-Della, I’m going to-“

She stood back up slowly, backing away slowly as she shook her head. “No...you’re going to...Donald, you’re going to...adknowledge Uncle Scrooge.”

“I-I n-need t-to-“ She wouldn’t let him speak, wouldn’t let him warn her about his grip on reality becoming hazy.

“You’re going to say that...our...father. We’ve...had one, because...died when we were only...your uncle and that’s...He may ...raised you, us...that...father!” She had stated firmly, voice wobbling in and out as Donald felt himself struggling to understand. He was unable to respond a moment later, as he couldn’t even breathe any longer.

What did it matter? Nothing around him was real, his sister had never been there. He had never lived in the mansion, his family wasn’t real, he had never had a single friend, he had never had a career in the Navy, no, nothing had been real. His entire life wasn’t real, because nothing in his surroundings were. He was floating it felt like, as he looked up at the sluggish movement in front of him. He knew her, but couldn’t quite remember anything about the duck shaking him. She had looked angry for a moment, before her face slowly morphed into concern. Did it matter what she wanted? He was the only bring in existence and everything else didn’t matter. He felt a dull pain on his wing and saw that the duck was pinching him. Huh, was that supposed to actually hurt? Her voice wobbled vaguely in his ears. “...on...lad?”

He blinked slowly and the pain in his wing ncreased. He frowned and shook his head frantically at him. His voice came out hipitched, showcasing the growing distress that he was beginning to feel in response to the pain that was starting to overwhelm. “N-No!”

The pinching ceased immediately and she just stared at him with worried eyes. She reached out, hand touching his cheek gently. She was mouthing words at him, her other hand shaking his wing. The sluggish motion around him had suddenly sped up. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only being in existence. He was gasping loudly, as Della spoke to him. “Oh my god, Donald, please, I’m about to call 911 if you don’t respond!”

“S-Stop shaking me, p-please.” While Donald’s dissociative episode had ended, he felt out of sorts. He felt exhausted and wasn’t in the mood to explain. The sailor knew he would have to though, otherwise Della would go through with her threat.

She had ceased shaking his shoulder, but she had a tight grasp now inside. “Donald, what the hell was that? You didn’t respond for like five minutes straight!”

“I-I know...it’s something that happens sometimes...I’m fine...well, it wasn’t fine, but I’m fine now. It’s what happens now when I’m too...” He couldn’t find the right words to explain.

“Too what?”

“...too anxious? I think? It started to happen when I was stuck on the...island.” He thought back on his time trapped there, trying to recall the first episode. He was thinking that this was either the fourth or fifth time now.

She squeezed in response with her eyebrows furrowed. “Has that happened a lot? I think you should tell one of your therapists about it.”

He frowned and pushed her hand away. “I’m already getting help, so don’t worry about it.”

“What the hell, dude? Of course I’m going to worry! You didn’t reply for a full five minutes and you suddenly shouted ‘no’ at me and now you’re acting like everything is fine, when it really isn’t!”

“I don’t need your help, so just leave me alone!” Donald shouted at her, reaching out for a chair nearby to pull himself up. He hated being on the floor like this, unable to stand when he was arguing with her.

She saw what he was doing and suddenly kicking the chair from his reach. He stared at her with wide eyes, wobbling unsteadily on one knee. “Did you just...?”

“Yes, I did, you asshole! You are not going to just brush me off when I’m trying to help you! I’m tried of everyone acting like their fine when I’m concerned about them! I don’t know if this a stupid trait our family has or what, but I’m not going to step aside while my family suffers, do you understand?!” Della demanded all attention on her, previous self consciousness forgotten.

Donald fell back onto his behind, growling. “I am taking care of the issue and all you’re doing is bothering me! I’m getting the help I need, I decided to agree to a family therapy session, and I even opened up when we were all together, but you’re acting like I haven’t done a thing! I’m doing things at my own pace and just because as usual you’re able to do things faster and better than me, doesn’t mean I won’t get there! I do not want your help and if you keep trying to do when I don’t want it, I’m going to completely lose my damn mind!” 

Della was staring at him, standing high above his furious face. Donald wasn’t certain what she seemed to suddenly realize, but her face morphed into fear. Her voice sounded shocked and her hands shook. “Oh my god, Donald...why did I...?”

She turned to the chair she kicked a bit away, scooting back into his range of reach. While his face did return to his normal shade, he didn’t feel any less angry as he pulled himself up into the chair. He sat down, glaring at her face, uncaring about what he was making her feel. She appeared hesitant to speak, yet she did. “Don...I’m sorry, I should have not did that.”

“You come barging in here, demanding answers, then you say you’re going to abandon your entire family to ‘search for yourself’ when you had plenty of time to do that when you were on the moon for an entire decade, then you become angry when I tell you how I feel about the ducks I raised! I don’t want to deal with you anymore, do you understand that? I know the boys don’t feel that way about me, of course I do. I can’t even dream of the faces they would make if I did. I just want you to leave, because I’m so tired of this. It hasn’t even been a full week and you all are making me have a hard time getting used to being back here.”

Tears were welling in her eyes. “Donald...I just wanted you to be happy. I’ve always wanted you to be happy and you haven’t ever been.”

He turned to stare out the window stonily, indifferent to the tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. “I have been happy before. Maybe there’s a reason why you haven’t seen me happy before then.”

She wiped her tears, feeling anger growing in her chest at the harsh words. “Well, maybe I haven’t seen you happy because all you care about is yourself, Donald Duck, and everyone can see it!”

The cold expression she hated has returned to his face, when he turned back to her. “Says the duck that is willingly walking away from her family.”

She couldn’t look at him a moment longer. Della whirled around, violently slamming open the door. She headed down the hallway, running as fast as she could. She needed to get away from the mansion before anyone saw the distress she was in. Della headed down the main staircase, to the back door, and out into the clearing behind the building. The duck stood there, breathing deeply. “I just need to get control of myself...”

Della wasn’t planning on ever abandoning her family. She couldn’t even imagine never seeing any of them ever again. How could her own brother think that? She had spent an entire decade trying to return home and apparently that meant nothing to him. She had lost her leg, had been trapped for years, had been at risk of death multiple times, had done so much to return to the ones she loved most. 

The duck looked to the window of Donald’s room, feeling her heart heavy in her ribcage. While she hadn’t planned to become a mother, she had been thrust into the role unwillingly. She knew her life was going to change once they hatched, so she wanted to go on one last solo adventure. Della obviously wasn’t going to permanently stop her adventures, but she knew it would have been a few years before her children could have went with her. Instead of a day trip, she found herself hurtling to the moon, realizing she might not survive this. She had made it though and had realized she had left her children with no mother. But, she hadn’t been worried. Even if Donald and Uncle Scrooge didn’t get along, surely they would have come together to raise her beautiful boys until she returned.

Della should have known that they couldn’t get along for two seconds though. Donald had taken her boys away from their uncle and struggled to raise them on his own. He could have gotten help, yet his ego had been in the way, and he did everything on his own! He should have remained the dutiful uncle, instead of a dotting father. They were her children by blood, through and through. And yet...what if her boys didn’t actually see her as their mother? What if they only called her that out of habit? What if they wanted Donald as a parent and not her?

She had done so much for them, had settled into her role as mother, had allowed herself to be sidelined during adventures, out of the duty of being a provider in the normal fashion. She had no longer been an adventurer, instead a normal mother. She had given up the dreams she originally had, to replace them with the dreams she had gained of being mother. Della Duck had lost her sense of self, her sense of worth. She wanted to return to those roots she first planted, so that she knew what her purpose was. 

Instead, she was having her brother claim abandonment, when it was never going to be a permanent solution. She wanted to find out who she was again and then return home to go on adventures with her family once more. No more grocery store, she would find other means to provide. She wanted it so bad, but now she had her doubts. Would the boys and Uncle Scrooge fell betrayed if she were to go through with this?

She was going to head to the front yard to take her car for a drive, when she heard a noise from off in the forested area. She frowned, beginning to walk over there, realizing it was furious growling. The duck raised an eyebrow, surprised that she regnoized the voice. She entered another clearing, finding Storkules on his knees. She froze in place as she was aware he was muttering in anguish what appeared to be a type of prayer at the sky.

“-could you allow this to transpire? Have I not been the dutiful son? Yet I am ensnared in a-“ She thought that he had been upset at Zeus, but she wasn’t certain as it was obvious that the sky betrayed no reaction.

“Storkules?” She had raised her voice to make him aware of her presence. She had never heard him sound as anguished as he did at that moment.

All noise ceased immediately and Storkules remained still despite her presence being known. His broad shoulders were tense from behind, bunching up as though he were about to run from her. His voice was hoarse, yet steady when he addressed her though. “...Friend Della...how are you fairing?”

“Uh, I’m alright...I just noticed you were kinda...yelling at the sky...? And I’m kinda thinking that you’re...not alright? I know you had been...unable to go back home, since Uncle Scrooge told me. I was just wondering if you needed to maybe...um, vent?” She had approached and was now directly behind him.

“I thank you for your kind offering, Friend Della, but I am not in distress an-“

She felt her temper flare at the words. “I am sick and tired of everyone saying-“

Della moved to stand in front of him, to explode into his face despite the fact he didn’t deserve her anger, and froze at the sight. His face was crumbled, tears rolling down his face. She had never seen the demigod look so...she couldn’t even describe what emotion he was conveying, but she felt her anger snuff immediately. “You are distressed, even if you say you’re not. Storkules, I’m your friend, and I would be more than willing to listen. Is it Donald? Did he say something mean to you?”

The demigod gave her a wobbling smiling and released a low laugh. “It appears that everyone is led to believe that my Donald has hurt me in a manner. He is not at fault for anything that has befallen me. He was not yet a babe at the time of these issues and was incapable of being at fault.”

“What’s the matter then? I’ve never seen you so upset before. I’ve never heard you...talking like that before or seen you cry. I’m concerned for you.” She told him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I do not want to trouble you with my issues-“

“You’re not troubling me, I promise you. It would help me to know that at least one person would trust me enough to tell me what’s hurting them. I know it might be hard, but when have I ever made it clear to you that you can’t trust me?”

His eyes were red rimmed and he looked to the sky. “...My father no longer acknowledges me after I confronted him...I believe I have been forsaken and I believed that...”

His eyes were squeezed shut, body trembling. Della felt her heart hurt for him, though she was confused by what was happening. Why did Zeus reject his son? “Storkules, what happened?”

He opened his eyes, eyes pained as he finally told her his tale. “...When I was born unto this world, I was cursed to hold the deepest admiration for those that will never return it...”

Della Duck listened to his story and began to cry for his misfortune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually completely forgot to update last Tuesday. I’ve been moving on top of constant working and it totally slipped my mind to do so. I finally got around to doing it though! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. I’ll update again next week!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your curse is making it hard for you to make a decision isn’t it? You want this, but you can’t say it.”

He stood by Donald’s closed door and gripped the head of his cane tightly. His heart was pounding loud enough that he could hear it echoing in his ears. Scrooge had nearly broken apart when Donald tried to convince him that the viewpoint of him being his son was meaningless. But, he was here to try again at the message, despite the trembling in his legs.

He was afraid of what would happen next though. He had already been rejected once, so who was to say it wouldn’t happen again? He had spent so many years keeping to himself, trying to not be hurt by the actions of others. He promised himself he would never be weak enough to allow it to happen. But, he then realized he needed his family desperately and now he had been hurt deeply. He wasn’t certain he could go through with that again.

The billionaire shook his head, realizing he shouldn’t be hesitant. That wasn’t the Scrooge McDuck that he truly was. Scrooge McDuck would go in there charging, anxiety be damned! He reached out a hand to the door handle and...

Scrooge groaned, lying his forehead on the door. He wasn’t used to feel as out of his element as he was at the moment, but it seemed as though the past year had been nothing but that. One would think he would have been used to it by now, he truly he wasn’t. If he had to have a therapist guide him to one the one most important sentences of his life, then how was he supposed to do this on his own?

Scrooge decided to throw himself in head first and knocked on the door before he could have second thoughts. He didn’t receive a reply, but he did open the door a brief moment later. He saw Donald sitting in a chair, facing away from the door. The younger duck sounded annoyed when he spoke. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Well, you know how well we McDucks are at following commands, don’t you?” He replied after a moment, before stepping inside.

Donald suddenly craned his head around, face showing complete surprise. His voice sounded uncomfortable as he muttered. “I-I thought you were Della...”

Scrooge hasn’t expected that answer and frowned. “And why in the world were you expecting her?”

His surprise morphed into cold indifference suddenly and the duck turned back away. “She was here earlier.”

That didn’t offer much of an explanation, but Scrooge knew perhaps it was best to address that issue before getting into the other one. It didn’t seem to matter how old they were, he was always responsible to fix the issues they had. “Did you get in another fight with your sister?”

“You’re not our father, so whatever you say about us fighting doesn’t matter.” Donald immediately answered, unwilling to convey an ounce of emotion as he did so.

Scrooge felt the breath leave his lungs at the words. Donald had turned back around, presenting his back. The billionaire felt his confidence falter after being rejected yet again. He could feel his legs quaking and his eyes blurring as they welled with warm wetness. Donald suddenly craned his head back, voice toneless. “Why are you clattering you’re cane against the floo-?”

Donald appeared shocked, bill gaping open slightly. Scrooge knew from the tears partly blocking his vision and smudging against his glasses that he had started to openly cry. He couldn’t make a noise or he would have a break down like he had started to in the therapist’s office. His cane had been released from his grip and clattered loudly against the floor. His right hand covered his bill to stifle any noise. Without meaning to a choked sound was let out, barely muffled by his feathers pressed against his bill.

“Are you...crying?” Donald had scooted his chair to face towards Scrooge to study the scene.

The billionaire allowed his hands to drop, attempting to reply calmly. Instead a wretched sob was let out with his words. He felt so weak, so tiny. “I-I know you d-do not f-f-feel the same w-way, b-b-b-b-“

He put a fist to his bill and turned away to hide his face from Donald. He couldn’t even finish his sentence before his voice had broken. His throat burned as he tried to hold in his choked noises, making it difficult to breathe. He felt his anguish begin to consume him while and he finally let out a loud cry of distress. He couldn’t allow Donald to see him in a state like this. It was silent for a brief moment and he heard Donald’s voice during that time. “...are you...are you alright?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and only let out a choked gasp. He didn’t have the strength to answer. Scrooge McDuck had become broken at the painful knowledge that his nephew didn’t want to be seen as his son. He wanted to be his father, by God as his witness, he truly desired that. He didn’t think he could take those words back ever though. Even if Scrooge accepted it, the knowledge that he had called him his son would hang over the pair for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t live like this.

Scrooge went for the door, his confidence in shambles, feeling as though he were a coward. His hand was barely on the door when he heard Donald’s shaking voice. “P-Please don’t...”

The billionaire was frozen in place, tears continuing to roll down his face. Donald continued, though he sounded hesitant. “...don’t go.”

Scrooge couldn’t deny him that request and wiped at his eyes. He pinched at his tear ducts, willing them to cease his crying. He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his bill and adjusted his suit. He would be damned if Donald saw him as unhinged as he could have been. He slowly turned around, looking to his nephew waiting for him. Donald’s face crumbled immediately and he began to cry in earnest. The duck threw his face into his hands and cried out. “I-I c-can’t d-do t-this!”

Scrooge approached instantly, feeling his heart pain at the sight of the open anguish from the other. He thought the rejection had hurt the most, but truly this had hurt more than anything else in the world. One of the animals he cared about most, feeling as broken as him. The duck finally reached him and laid a hand upon his head. Donald had looked up slightly, as he continued on. “I-I d-don’t k-know h-how t-to...”

“Lad?” 

Donald looked back down to his hands, voice steadily becoming more undesirable. “...c-can’t...p-please...”

“Donald, I am sorry, but I cannot understand a single thing you’re saying.” He finally confessed, as he pulled up a chair beside Donald’s.

Donald took several deep breathes, becoming silent for a few minutes. Finally, he lifted his head, a single tear dripping down his face. Scrooge’s hand had slid away and he didn’t dare place it near Donald again. “...I am...confused....I didn’t know what to say when you...”

“When what, Donald?” He had gotten over his fear and was now holding his hand.

Donald squeezed his eyes shut. “...w-when you called me your...s-son.”

Scrooge felt a shuddery breath leaving his bill and he nodded. While that wasn’t a confirmation of acceptance or denial, at least it was finally acknowledged of what he had said. He understood how his nephew felt at the moment. It had taken him and the therapist months to discern what his feelings towards Della and Donald were. He had known deep down that they were his children, but he couldn’t properly convey that feeling until recently. “I understand, lad...I know you’re confused about how I feel and...I don’t expect an answer anytime soon, but it...it hurt that you didn’t want to acknowledge what I had said.”

Donald squeezed his hand back, gulping. “I’m...sorry, Uncle Scrooge, I’m just...it’s barely been a week and I feel so...o-overwhelmed.”

The duck had choked out a lowly sob a moment later and Scrooge leaned forward. He pulled Donald’s head in close, allowing him to cry into his shoulder. The billionaire’s eyes had welled with tears as well, his own feelings being forgotten to comfort his nephew. “It’s alright... you’re alright, Donald...”

“N-No, I’m not! I-I’m just-just-just a huge m-mess!” Donald had wrapped his arms around his uncle’s shoulders. Scrooge was startled for a moment by the sudden embrace, before accepting it. His heart felt warm as he hugged his nephew back. “I-I don’t think I have been for a long time...”

“Donald?” He frowned, confused by the duck’s meaning.

“I-I’ve felt so...lonely...I-I’ve felt so lonely for such a long time...no one understood me...l-literally and e-emotionally...A-And when I finally did have the two that understood me most? I-I had to leave them f-for the boys...I-I loved them so much, but w-why did Della have to...?” He had become incoherent again, voice a sobbing mess.

Scrooge had always know Donald was different than the other children his age years ago and had constantly tried to understand him. It had always ended with the pair fighting with one another, as they were so much opposites of each other that it was hard to process his nephew’s thought process. He had naturally connected better with Della and as a result they had gone on more adventures. He didn’t realize until years later that it was blanat favoritism, but he had tried his best. Scrooge regretted not doing more though. It was clear that Donald needed a therapist much earlier than he had gotten one, but the billionaire had always thought they were for people that were absolutely insane. It was how he was raised. He didn’t know any better and he wish he had. It had taken him far too long to realize that therapists helped, instead of hurt.

“A-And you!” Donald spit out after a mix of sobs and unillegible quacks. “Y-You just acted l-like I was j-just being a-a-a-!”

“I know...I know...I should have tried harder...I should have tried harder to make sure you were happy in life...I shouldn’t have made that rocket ship...I shouldn’t have thought only of Della, I should have remembered you were in pain and not...I should have tried harder to reach out again. And I’m so sorry that I left you alone on that island for so long...”

“...y-you just saying that doesn’t change w-what happened...” Donald mumbled wearily and Scrooge felt his heart clench. “B-But I w-want...I w-want us...”

Scrooge pulled away to look his nephew in the eye, feeling hope well up in his chest. “Do you...do you want to us to try again?”

Donald nodded and began to sob heavily. Scrooge allowed himself to be pulled back into a tight hug. He comforted his nephew, allowing him to release his emotions. He felt his heart soar though and knew that even though it would be difficult, everything would be alright in the end. When it came to the McDuck family, it always was.  
*

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Della asked, voice hushed as she wiped away her tears. 

Storkules was allowing his tears to freely flow from his eyes and he looked mildly anxious to answer her. She was unaware that he was more nervous to share the answer with her, then he had been of Scrooge. Usually he would wax poetry to portray his affections, but he was feeling meek at the moment. “...a-aye.”

Della sucked in a breath. She didn’t realize he was actually in love with her brother until now, but it made sense. She nodded at him, before thinking more on his story. “...and, your curse makes you unable to leave since Louie said that Donald needs you, doesn’t it?”

He had his eyes squeezed shut and slowly nodded. Her heart dropped and she knew she had to carefully word what she was going to say next. Usually Della wasn’t very good at that, so she decided to stay quiet before she knew what to say. “Storkules, I don’t think...not to make you think anything bad, please let me just say my full thought before you think too hard about it, ok?”

The demigod’s eyes had fluttered open, tears having begun to dry. “A-Aye.”

“Ok, I...personally think that Donald does not...actually need you as much as you think he does,” She finally breathed out. His face scrunched up and then he slowly nodded for her to continue. “I think he really needs his...immediate family more right now. I know that probably hurts to hear, but you and Donald have only more recently become friends. He has barely opened up to us and you should know personally that it takes a long time for him to do that.”

Storkules seemed to mull over the statement and was visibly holding in his tears. She decided to keep explaining, hoping to make him understand. He was going to be stuck here, his curse leaving him chained forever if she didn’t. “I think that Donald would actually do better if he focused on healing himself with the help of Uncle Scrooge and the boys.”

“...m-my Donald needs me though.” He gasped out, hands fisted by his sides.

“Well, considering the fact that Donald doesn’t even need me right now, I think you would be fine without you as well.” She answered darkly, face revealing irritation.

The demigod stared at her in surprise, then his face softened. “Friend Della...do you truly believe that?”

“I don’t just believe, I know. Donald has been avoiding me and telling me to leave him alone since he came back. He doesn’t need me. I don’t think he ever has. He’s always acted like he doesn’t need me...” She turned towards the mansion, seeing it loom over the treetops. “...I always thought I needed him, until I went to the moon and realized that I was able to survive on my own.”

Storkules’ hand rested upon her shoulder and she turned back to him. “...he needs you more than you believe him to.”

“I don’t think Donald does, at least not at this moment...which is why I’ve made a decision. The decision to leave Duckburg.”

The stork’s eyes widened. “What of...what of your children?”

“They have Scrooge and Donald again, so they’ll be fine. And it isn’t permanent. I just need to...I’ve lost who I am and I need to understand again. Once I’ve become me again, I can return.” 

“But, Friend Della-“

“Storkules, just call me Della. I think we’re past that stage of you having to be all formal.

“Er, Della, I believe you are needed here with-“

She looked exhausted suddenly. “Please, please, don’t finish that sentence. Donald doesn’t understand and I don’t need another person against my decision. My family was fine without me before and they’ll be fine without me for awhile again. I need to do this...or I don’t think I can stay emotionally stable like I have been.”

“...I do not agree with your viewpoint that your family finds you unnecessary, but I understand your desire to leave, Della.”

She smiled gently at him. “I have a question for you and I want you to think about it seriously.”

“Aye, what is it?”

“...the two of us, do you want us to go search for a cure to your curse together?” 

Storkules froze, looking increasingly more distressed as the seconds ticked by. His hand was trembling and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. Della reached out to touch his arm, stroking it to comfort him. “Your curse is making it hard for you to make a decision isn’t it? You want this, but you can’t say it.”

Storkules didn’t deny her statement and instead withdrew his hand from her. She still held fast to his arm though. “Storkules, why is this now only happening? Before you were ok back on Itaquack, so I don’t understand the problem.”

“...I believe that my curse has gained strength due to...my increase of affections for my Donald. Before I held the highest regards to those that inhabited Ithaquack, but now that my...father has cast me out, my feelings have been altered.”

“What about Selene? I don’t understand how the curse affects your relationship with her. You two have always had the strongest bond.” 

Storkules spoke carefully to her, as though explaining something she wouldn’t be able to comprehend. “My sister’s mother is Theia, whom has ownership over the aithre, as well as thea. She was-“

It seemed as though there were a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he spoke to her as he did. She made a time-out sign in the middle of his explanation. “Wait, wait, hold up! I don’t speak Greek, so I have no idea what you just said.”

“Apologies, Della. Aithre refers to...” He seemed to ponder what to tell her next, hand tapping his chin. “...to the purer heavens above.”

“Like the sky? What do you mean by ‘purer’ though?” She couldn’t completely wrap her head around the meaning here.

“The...I am uncertain that there is a clear translation for you to comprehend. Perhaps the sun’s radiance on a day that heavens shine blue hued? Not to mistaken it with the sun itself, as that domain belongs to Helios.”

“Okkkkk...I’m not sure if I completely understand, but I kinda have a vague idea of what you mean? What about the other thing you said though?”

“Aye, thea. It refers to the literal sense of vision. It defers from oracles-which are mortals that act as a medium of sorts-as Theia is all seeing every sense of the word. She is perfectly aware of the motions of the world and is capable of turning her gaze to whatever she pleases. Curses remain a distant threat to her, as she seems to be immune. Fair Selene had inherited her ability upon her birth and as a result this curse has no bearing to her.”

“So, both her and her mom just had this random ability to be completely immune to curses? And no one else? Because that’s kinda weird if you ask me.”

Storkules appeared mildly uncomfortable. “Not...precisely.”

“Storkules...who else has that ability?” She asked slowly, realizing that he was implying there were others. He was clearly hesitant to answer her and she narrowed her eyes. “Ok, why can’t you telling me?”

“I am...capable of revealing who they may be, but I am told that to speak such a name aloud is a danger.”

“Um, alright. Why don’t you show me on Zoogle then?” She pulled out her phone, opening up her internet app, and handing it Storkules. The demigod gulped thickly and typed slowly into the search bar. A moment later he handed it back to her and gazed up to the sky with a muttered prayer. “Μεγάλη Σωτηρία, δώσε μου προστασία από βλάβη!”

She hadn’t the faintest idea as to what he had said, but the more she read the descriptions on the internet, the more she started to see the picture of someone dangerous. “Ok, and he is the only other one that has been immune to curses?”

“Aye, for the creator of life was thought to be unable to be defeated in combat...”

“It says here that...Cro-no-is did though?”

Storkules’ face morphed into one she had never seen any God or Goddess she had met make. She couldn’t quite describe it, but she had an overwhelming feeling of being in the presence of someone that was clearly not completely mortal. His voice had a slight echo to back up the immense power she felt. “Οι θεοί δεν πεθαίνουν ποτέ.”

Della felt a tingle down her spine at the words and she cringed at the sudden feeling of unease. “W-What?”

The demigod’s face returned back to his normal one, though there was an air of sadness hovering over him. “It matters not. What does matter, is despite my want to...alter my circumstances, I believe I am necessary here for my Donald.”

She groaned in exasperation. “What is up with all of you being so self sacrificing?! Aren’t you tired of doing things constantly for others?! Don’t you want to do something for yourself for once?!”

The stork watched her scream at him, smashing her finger as hard as possible into his huge chest. Her barely felt it there at all, but her voice made him feel uncomfortable. She seemed to feel bitter at everyone at the moment, himself including. He couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from, but she wasn’t wrong. He had spent so long doing everything for others, that he realized he had hardly done a thing ever for himself. And the first thing he wanted to do was to lift his curse, but he was chained by obligation. He couldn’t even express his desire to do so, as the desire to help Donald Duck overrode everything else.

Della seethed at him, shaking her head. “What do you want?!”

He knew what he wanted above all else. “To achieve happiness.”

“Then we’re going to achieve happiness for you!” She slammed her palm against his chest and yelped as her hand bounced back with an echo. “What the hell are you even made of?!”

“Flesh of course...among others.” He answered simply, surprised being asked such an obvious question.

“Geez!” She shook her hand out to ease the smarting pain and then narrowed her eyes at him. “...are you glowing brighter or is it just me?”

“Ah, I suppose I have achieved temporary happiness. My energy waxes and wanes with my emotional state. Most Gods and Goddesses have a similar aura surrounding them, as you may have observed with my father. A handful of demigods, such as myself, have it as well.”

“Huh, I guess that now that you say it, Selene has that too. I don’t really think it was that kinda gold color like yours though. I think it was more of-“

“-the radiance of the moon itself, when eventide has concluded.” He finished for her, with a knowing smile.

“...uh, yeah, I guess so? It does kind remind me of the moon...” Her eyes widened. “...because she is the goddess of the moon!”

“Aye, just as my aura is reminiscent of my father’s fulmination he rains upon this world, for I am his son...at least by the blood following in my veins...” He had trailed off, face visibly dropping.

Della felt immense anger at Zeus for what he had done to the demigod. Storkules had always been looking out for others, willing to be an obedient and loyal son, an animal with a kind heart. What did that get him? Unending pain. She couldn’t allow this to continue. “Storkules, I think you should talk to Donald about this.”

“Oh, I could not burden him with th-“

Della reached up, grabbing the top of his tunic, pulling downwards. His body bent at the waist and he found himself face to face with her furious expression. Storkules felt the fear of her anger stroke him deep in his heart and he froze up as she hissed diabolically. “If you finish that damn sentence, I’m going to take it, and shove it straight back down into your throat. Do you understand?”

He nodded frantically, anything to appease her wrath. Her face softened as she released him. He stood back to his full height and adjusted his tunic. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing one of his arms. She sighed at his anxious behavior. “You have no idea how to talk about it with Donald, do you?”

“Nay.”

“Ok, ok...alright, so here’s the thing: Donald and I are pissed of at each other and he’s being a total asshole, so I can’t really talk to him,” She explained, pacing back and forth. Storkules frowned in confusion, but nodded at her. “Soooo, since it’s kinda out of the question for us to even interact right now...what if...what if someone else helps you talk?”

“...aye, I could use assistance. I am uncertain as to the reasoning that you are angry with one another, but I wholly need assistance in this endeavor.”

“Ok, but who though...? I don’t know who else would be a good person that Donald would be willing to listen to...”

“Friend Launchpad appears to be a comrade in arms with my Donald. And I do admire the euphoric presence he exudes.” Storkules suggested after the pair pondered over the question for a minute.

“Launchpad? Really? I mean he did say he really admired Donald in the past, but I’m just surprised my brother would enjoy being around him back. When did that happen?”

“I believe when Friend Launchpad assisted in my Donald’s tempestuous state two moons ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Launchpad was there when I came home after Webby called me at work about Donald’s panic attacks. I’m still surprised he was able to get Donald to open up though. Usually it’s really hard to...Launchpad is a really open person though, so I guess it makes sense. Sometimes I find myself talking about things with him that I don’t usually with others.”

“His generosity rivals that of Charis’ and her compassion she entrances others with.”

Della decided to not question who that deity was. Her brain felt overloaded with the amount of information she had been burdened with. She whipped out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She pressed on her friend’s phone number and called. He picked up after a few seconds, his voice sounded groggy and slurred slightly. “Y-Yeah?”

“Launchpad? You sound kinda funny. Are you alright?”

“Oh...uh, Della...yeah, just kinda busted up from the other day...Ms. Beakley drove me back home like two nights ago, but I was given some heavy duty medicine. Like I was fine, but then it got really hard to breathe. I’ve been sleeping for like a whole day I think.” He sounded more coherent as the conversation continued on.

“Oh, so no game night tomorrow then it looks like. Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Storkules was watching her patiently.

“No, you’re fine. What’s up? Did you need help?” He made a muffled groaning noise, as though covering his mouth with his hand.

“Um, are you in pain right now, dude?”

“No, no! I’m fine, really,” There was an silent pause as she slowly narrowed her eyes. Almost as though he sensed her growing anger through the phone, he finally confessed. ”...maybe a little bit. But you need help don’t you? You usually text me instead of calling, so it must be something real important.”

Her eyes darted to make eye contact with the demigod, his face showing visible concern about the one side of the conversation he could hear. “It is, but you’re healing still. I think it could....possibly wait a bit longer.”

“It’s not like I’m not going to go out soon anyways. I just found a note from DW and it looks like he went out on his own while he’s still hurt.” Launchpad sounded distracted and worried on his end now as well.

“Ugh, of course he did. I’m sure he’s going to be fine. He’s done it before, like at least ten different times that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“I mean, usually I’m not too surprised, but lately he’s been...different. I don’t really know how to explain it, but he seems kinda...distracted? I’m actually pretty worried about him, Della.”

Now Della had another issue she had to be concerned with as well it seemed. One step at a time thought. “Launchpad, just how hurt is he? Is this an emergency level? Is he hurt enough that it’s actually bad for him to be out?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I think I’m worse, but with him being so distracted lately it makes me think he’s going to slip up and get hurt worse. I think I can handle it on my own though. I’m really sorry, Della, but is it alright if I help you after I go find him?”

She looked to Storkules, his eyes mirroring the same expression hers did. It was a mix of concern, yet a hint of longing. Even though he obviously couldn’t hear Launchpad, he could tell by her troubled expression that he would have to wait. He nodded at her and she sighed into the phone. “Yeah, you better go find him. It’s not super urgent, so don’t feel bad. It’s just something you can help me with later. Tell Drake I said hi. Also that he’s a jerk for making you worry.”

“Will do, Della. I’ll call or text you when I find him. Bye.” 

The phone call ended and she locked her phone. The duck shoved it into her bomber jacket. “You should still definitely talk to Donald...and maybe I could, too. Not today though. I’m pretty sure if I look at him right now, I’m going to fight him.”

“Della, perhaps I...I am uncertain I am willing to speak about this subject with him.”

“And why not? This would fix the part of the curse that’s making you unable to leave. I know you’re nervous about asking, but I can tell that you want to leave. I know you can’t say it out loud, but I can see it in your eyes.”

“Your eyes reflect such a longing as well, Della.” 

“I already said I wanted to leave, so of course! I just thought this...would benefit the both of us. You understand, don’t you? A quest to help you get rid of that stupid curse and a quest to find myself. It’s a two for one deal!”

“I believe my Donald has concerns far greater than my own to attend to.”

“Really? Greater than that witch Hera cursing you?” 

Storkules looked panicked at her words and reached out to cover Della’s mouth. The duck immediately felt upset by the action and attempted to push him away. He held tight with his immortal strength however and she just glared at him. “To speak ill of the Gods is to tempt their outrage.”

Della licked his hand and the demigod jerked his hand away in disgust. As he wiped his hand on his tunic, Della rolled her eyes. “I doubt that every God and Goddess I bad mouth is going to take time out of their day to come and address me for doing that.”

“Perhaps you McDucks are as unwise as Zeus has heralded you to be,” Both Storkules and Della froze when they heard the voice behind her. The demigod’s eyes darted over her shoulder and he tensed up. She slowly turned around, revealing Hera to be standing behind her. “And here I believed my husband to simply be exaggerating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update of March and I actually remembered to do it on the right day of the week!
> 
> So, we have a bit of Greek mythology in this chapter and I’ll provide more information of deities mentioned. Theia was the Titan Goddess of sight and the shining ether of the blue sky. Theia had three children: Helios the Sun, Eos the Dawn, and Selene the Moon. Cronos or Kronos was a Titan along with being the son of Gaia (Goddess of the Earth) and Uranos (God of the Sky). Charis was the Goddess of charm, beauty, nature, and fertility. Hera was the Goddess of home and hearth, along as being the wife of Zeus.
> 
> Translations:  
•“Μεγάλη Σωτηρία, δώσε μου προστασία από βλάβη!”  
Great Salvation, give me protection from harm! (A prayer to the Goddess of protection And safety, Soteria)  
•“Οι θεοί δεν πεθαίνουν ποτέ.”   
The Gods never die.
> 
> As always kudos and love for the story are strongly appreciated. I’ll be updating next week!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My gratitudes for your permission, my exquisite Queen. If I may, why have we been blessed with your irreproachable presence?”

The peacock’s lean neck glimmered with shades of turquoise and emerald, while her thin golden crown rested neatly upon her head with a handful of feathers sticking out above it. Her white gown stood out starkly against the dark feathers of her body, the hem laying dramatically upon the grass. She appeared to be taller than Storkules himself, being at an impressive near seven foot. She had a golden glow to her form, as though she held the power of life itself inside her.

“Queen Hera.” Storkules had fallen to one knee, bowing down his head to the looming figure behind Della.

“Why are y-?” Della had begun, feeling uncomfortable with the way he presented himself to the Goddess that had so willingly given him his curse. The stork’s hand had shot out though and shoved her down to the grass below. She nearly face planted and caught herself with the palms of her hands out of reflex. “What the hell, dude?!”

Della glanced briefly to his bowed head and found his eyes wide with terror. His eyes seemed to plead for her silence, so the duck didn’t utter another word. She slowly turned her head upwards and found Hera to be standing directly in front of her now. The peacock seemed displeased, raising an eyebrow. “It appears as though you are incapable of respecting the Gods. Or perhaps you are merely uneducated.”

“Uh, I just don’t think-“ Della began with a glare, unable to keep silent while being insulted.

“I can see that, Della Duck. It seems as though Storkules knows his place well still. I’m glad to see Zeus’ lessons from your childhood are still instilled into you. I would have thought from his description of the events that transcribed that you were now disobedient in demeanor.”

Della could feel her face burning from holding in the quip she had boiling sourly in her mouth. She knew Storkules would likely be the one to be threatened if she had spoken back in kind. The stork looked up to the immortal with a completely blank face. “You may speak.”

“My gratitudes for your permission, my exquisite Queen. If I may, why have we been blessed with your irreproachable presence?” He asked, sounding formal, though with a tone of meekness.

“Other than this simpleminded mortal’s articulation to the immortal, I have entertained the notion that perhaps you are...not as what I believed you to be at birth.”

“M-My Queen?” He asked in confusion, head tilting to the side.

“Perhaps I have...” Hera paused, eyes darting to Della briefly, before looking back at Storkules. “...created an incorrect estimation of your usefulness in my mind.”

“My Queen, how may I serve your-“

She raised a hand to silence him and he immediately ceased speaking. Della felt her blood boiling in her veins and gritted her teeth. How dare she treat him like he was nothing. Hera had ruined his entire life and this was how she treated him! She was about to explode if she wasn’t able to defend herself or her friend. “An unforeseen consequence has occurred...one that is not of the control of this planet.”

Della felt her anger fade into confusion. “Huh?”

“You should be gracious that I have allowed you to speak out of turn twice now. There will not a third time,” Hera warned, not even bothering to look at her. She was staring at Storkules’ who refused to make direct eye contact with the peacock. “Selene has directed my attention to a situation involved the rotation of this planet’s newest moon.”

Della’s eyes widened, realizing this was referring to Lunaris’ ship. She felt a sense of dread pooling in her belly and snapped her bill open to speak. Hera made direct eye contact with her and pointed a finger into her face. The duck found herself breaking out in a cold sweat and feeling ill to the point of dizziness. The Goddess’ voice echoed and Della forcibly received the taste of apples. “Σιωπή, θνητός.”

While similar to when Storkules had enforced power into his voice, Della felt the obviousness of being in front of a immortal. But, this time felt more painful. The peacock’s voice made her ears ring loudly. Her head had begun to slowly throb and she felt wetness oozing from her nostrils. Della reached up, fingers pressing against it, revealing blood. The demigod beside her stared with wide eyes, before his head jerked back to Hera. “My Queen, please, harm her not, for she is unaccustomed to our ways!”

“I have warned her not to speak out of term and I allowed her to do so more than once. She shall be punished for disrespecting me further if decides to do so once more. And next time I will but be as kind.”

Della was shaking, slowly sitting down into her bottom. She felt as though she would have fainted if she continued to stand. Storkules had reached down to touch her shoulder, squeezing it in comfort. Hera sneered at his kind gesture, eyes cruel. Della finally understood the legends she had heard of Hera’s coldness and how she seemed to care for the mercy of others. The stork stared at the Goddess, tears in his terrified eyes. “I beseech thee!”

Hera’s hand dropped and the Della began to feel normal again, though she had an overall weakness lingering throughout her body. The peacock stared at her step-son, eyes aloof. “You are as bemoaning as your father... yet not nearly as endearing. I should have ended you the moment you breathed your first...but, Zeus convinced me not to. He has this way of constantly being able to do so. Perhaps I should be less lenient in the future.”

The stork refused to acknowledge the comment and Della found herself with fire in her chest. As the demigod squeezed her shoulder in warning, she coughed out weakly. “I-If you know what that piece of shit is like, why do you put up with him?”

Hera surprisingly didn’t appear upset by the question, only tilting her head. “Why would you put up with your broken brother? Obligation and love are powerful motivators. Though I am immortal, I feel just as every living being,” Hera stared down at her, eyes nearly thoughtful. “You...are stronger than I thought. I was once very similar to you.”

“I doubt it, because I would never bully people for as stupid of a reason as pride!” She spit blood at the Goddess’s feet and Storkules began to tremble with fear. She would later feel bad for making the demigod feel terrified, but at the moment her courage screamed louder than anything else.

The pair were both surprised when Hera released a laugh, memories of a mother’s affection shrouding their minds. Della flinched, knowing she hadn’t ever remembered her own, and felt unnerved by that comparison. Storkules’ hand has jerked away and covered his own bill. She knew he probably felt worse about the comparison, as his own mother had lived the remainder of her days miserabley. “You have valor as sturdy as my own. And if you believe you do not have pride as encompassing as mine, you are sorely mistaken. I was simply here to use you for my own purposes for this unforeseen circumstance, but now I feel a desire to lend you assistance.”

Storkules’ hand slowly dropped and for the first time he looked her directly in the eyes. “M-My Queen?”

“Your newest moon is no longer in the heavens. The universe had decided to set foreign derby to our planet and the foreigner was in it’s path. The ship came hurtling back to Earth and made impact along the Zaire River.”

Della’s eyes were wide and she was suddenly on her feet, snarling. “That no good bastard is back! And he’s alive?!”

“I am uncertain as to his status. As your brother had survived such an ordeal, it is possible the foreigner could have as well,” Storkules looked surprised by the news, while Della thought about the likelihood of survival. She wiped trail of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth, breath quickened from the simmering anger that had returned. Hera turned to Storkules, with an eyebrow raised. “Selene did not inform you, did she?”

Storkules looked back down and the next words made the duck beside him feel upset about another reason. “Selene has been unable to contact me directly, as per ordained by Father.”

“That god damn-“ Della cut herself off, feeling weak once more. Her friend held her shoulder when he noticed her swaying briefly, steadying her out of worry.

“Zeus does have sway over such decisions...but, as do I,” Storkules had tensed at the words, yet did not speak. He held his breath, staring staring down at the grass. Della’s eyes widened at the words and suddenly realized what the Goddess was about to say. “Speak to the moon at twilight and she shall speak unto you in return.”

Storkules’ eyes welled with tears and he was suddenly presenting his hands at her feet, kneeling fully upon the ground. “M-My Queen, you grant me this generosity?”

“I would not quite address it as generosity...perhaps more...” She stared at Della, who narrowed her eyes in return, attempting to understand her game plan in that moment. She was startled to see a smile grace her features. “...presenting you with what you deserve.”

Della was shocked by these words, confused as to why she was suddenly invested in Storkules and no longer hating his very existence. The demigod looked up at her, eyes wide. He seemed to understand the gravity of what she had said to him. His bill opened and closed multiple times. “Y-You...”

“Perhaps who is at fault, as usual, is my husband. Though he may be immortal, he has flaws...as do I,” The peacock smirked at them, pulling her feet away from Storkules kneeling before them. “I will present to you a quest and a reward, if you so accept it.”

“What? I don’t really thin-“ Della began, feeling skeptical, despite what Hera had given Storkules.

The stork had stood, placing a fist across his chest, and over his heart. “I accept the golden virtuous quest you offer, My Queen!”

“Dude, are you serious?! You don’t even know what it is!” The duck blurted out, throwing her hands into the air.

Della was ignored, in favor of Hera speaking. “While I am unsure as to whom, one of us has lined themselves to operate in the shadows of a secret organization. There has been magic of the ancient ones being used in ways that do not favor this planet or the rest of us.”

“A deity is abusing their position?” The stork clarified and Della was beginning to realize this was definitely bigger than her.

“Wait, hold up, if that’s true, how come we haven’t heard anything big, like stuff on the news relating to this?” Della found this to be suspicious and she didn’t trust Hera a bit.

Hera stared directly at her, voice low. “You have.”

“Ummm, what do you mean by th-?”

“You must dismantle their operations from the inside. Disrupt their team if you must, in hopes to relinquish the hold one of us immortals attempts to solely hold upon this planet.”

“Uh, like secret spies? What is this a movie? And how would that even work? Storkules is an actual demigod and I’m the niece of a well-known billionaire! They’re definitely going to see that we’re both not typical animals!”

“Friend Della, please cease-“ Storkules began, becoming anxious once more by his friend’s protests to the quest.

“Faith in the ancient ones is difficult for you from what I’ve seen, but I assure you that I have my methods. While masking those that are blessed as well are impossible-“ She nodded at Storkules. “-I am capable of masking those that are mere mortals. I can distort the appearance of those looking at you. I would recommend changing your physical appearance as well though, as we are dealing with a ancient one, but distorting you to the other’s involved is mere child’s play.”

“And why the hell would we help you?” She asked in return, the demigod beside her trembling in fear from her boldness to a Goddess.

“You desire change...he desires a solution to his curse-“

“That you put on him, you wench!” Della finally exploded, unable to hold it in anylonger. Storkules had grasped her bicep in a tight grip and the duck realized how frightened he was by her words to Hera. His eyes were squeezed shut and she could feel the trembling running through her body from him. Della gulped, remembering that the Goddess could actually hurt them. She couldn’t even imagine how Hera could punish Storkules for her disrespecting and interrupting her.

The peacock’s voice was surprisingly soft, a twinkle in her eye. “Μου αρέσει πολύ το πνεύμα σου. Θα σας συγχωρήσω αυτή τη φορά, ανόητος θνητός.”

Storkules appeared astonished, bill gaping open wide. While Della didn’t know the meaning, judging from the stork’s reaction the pair would fortunately live. She felt the tension she held in her body lessen and was thankful her explosion hadn’t made Storkules suffer. “You have a desire and my quest would benefit you in every sense of the word. If you were to succeed in your journey, I may grant a wish in your favor. You as well, Storkules. I suggest you to consider my offer, as I do not grant them often.”

In the next blink Hera was gone, leaving not behind a trace, other than the lingering scent of pomegranate in the air surrounding them. Della looked wildly around, suddenly realizing the Goddess was truly gone. A moment later she turned to Storkules, who merely stared at the now empty clearing. “Ok, what was all of that, Storkules?”

“I...I...M-My Queen...” Storkules seemed to be at loss of words and she realized he was absolutely useless to find answers from.

Della shook her head and started to head back to the mansion. “Honestly, who does she think she is? Ruining Storkules’ life and acting like she can get away with it! And now she thinks giving out a quest and saying a few less than mean things can fix the issue! Screw that! I’m not doing a damn thing for her.”

The duck found herself lingering on the idea of being a secret spy though and the possibility of having a life full of adventure she always dreamed off. To find her heart pumping through her veins when in danger, to find herself running for her life, to find herself becoming her best possible self. She needed the thrill, she had always needed it. She couldn’t stick in this state of being forever. Her heart longed deeply for her dream, to be free. Della realized she had froze before exiting the clearing and Storkules was now standing behind her, voice hesitantly calling out. “Della?”

She turned around slowly, looking into his eyes. She could tell by the gaze he presented in return that he wanted it, he truly wanted this. His heart held a dream, to be free of curse, to have Hera appreciate his existence. He couldn’t confirm it directly to her, but she knew. She knew even if she didn’t want to help Hera, she wanted to helped Storkules. They both needed to change their lives for the better. “I’ll do it...I want to do it.”  
*

“Kids?” Della had peeked her head into her sons’ room, revealing only Huey to be there on the top bunk bed. He glanced up from the book he was reading, guarded expression on his face when he realized who it was. She presented a smile to him, trying to seem placating. “Hey, where are your brothers?”

“Well, I don’t really know where Louie is. And, it doesn’t really matter where Dewey is, because he still doesn’t want to talk to anyone really expect for me.” He replied, eyes wary as he shut his book.

She felt her heart drop at the words and she entered the room slowly. “He’s not the only one angry with me, is he?”

“You all really hurt him, you know that? Even Louie huey him, too. And usually they get along better than I do with them.” Huey informed her, scooting to the edge of the bed to allow his legs to dangle off of it.

She climbed up the ladder to his bed. The older duck plopped down next to him, feeling nervous. She was close enough that his hip pressed against her. Huey didn’t retreat from the touch, but he made no move to press closer. Della sighed, before continuing on. “Huey, sweetie, I wasn’t...even though I’ve been with you three for the past year, I still don’t know every single thing about you...I don’t...I’m getting better at being your Mom, but I’m still unsure as to what you kids need sometimes.”

“I know that, but...you and Uncle Scrooge never noticed our discomfort until...until the therapy.” Huey informed her, staring up at her with disappointment in his eyes.

“And I know that, and I know it’s no excuse, but I’m kinda...an airhead about that type of stuff, you know? Sometimes I need one of you to just grab me by the face and say ‘listen, Mom!’ and tell me what the problem is.”

Huey smiled slightly at her. “You sound like Dewey when you say that.”

“Don’t you mean he sounds like me? I think you’re forgetting whose older here,” She bumped his shoulder with her own and he laughed lightly. Her face turned back to somber a moment later and she wrapped an arm around him. “I know I messed up...but, when Dewey is willing to talk, we’ll discuss what to we need to, alright?”

Huey buried his face into her upper shoulder, hugging her tightly. “Please do.”

“Don’t worry, I will, sweetie,” She lifted her head to the doorway, calling out. “Storkules, you can come in now!”

Huey pulled his face away and glanced up in confusion as Storkules entered the room, beaming. He raised his arms as he approached the triple bunk bed. “Has young Hubert forgiven you, Della?”

“I think so.”

Huey nodded, confirming that he had. The demigod cried out in triumph and reached up to the top bed to pick up Huey like a rag doll and spun around in a circle. “Victory!” 

Huey gagged slightly and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ohhhh, please stop the spinning!”

Storkules ceased immediately and gently set him back down on to his unsteady feet. The young duck wobbled and shook his head. Della laughed a little at his weak glare he had given the demigod. “Forgive my actions, young Hubert, as I only desire to convey my joy that you have reinstated your relationship with Della.”

Huey’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, why are you here still, Storkules?”

Della sighed loudly. “Come back up here, Huey..I need to tell you boys something... important and I want you to understand, that you haven’t done anything wrong, ok?”

Huey looked frightened and his eyes were wide. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“No, nothing is wrong, I promise you that...it has to do with me and Storkules.” She nodded at the demigod, whom offered a reassuring smile to the 13-year-old.

“Please tell you aren’t being weird like Dewey and Webby. I don’t think I can handle that, like at all,” Huey shuddered at the thought, but turned to Storkules. “Don’t you have a crush on Uncle Donald though?”

Della and Storkules began to shake their heads immediately, with the older duck making gagging noises. “No! There is no way! Ew! Just no! I’m sorry, dude, but I definitely don’t like you in that way.”

“As you were, Della. I observe your presence as an comrade in arms,” Storkules turned to Huey, smiling gently. “Aye, I do hold my Donald in high regards.”

“I mean, I could have concluded that on my own.” Huey replied, staring at him like it was completely obvious, before climbing back up the ladder to his mother.

“Look, Huey, this is about...I just want to remind you, this is about me and Storkules. Not about anyone else...I made this decision on my own, so you understand?” The 13-year-old appeared unsettled about the words, but listened closely with a nod. “Ok...my entire life I’ve been an adventurer. I always craved the thrill of it, which in the end was my downfall, as you obviously know.”

The Sphere of Selene had been a mistake, one she would come to regret for the rest of her life. She should have gone about it a different way, instead she had done something reckless, and her sons paid the price for it. They grew up without a mother, being raised by their uncle. Huey frowned at her, voice a hush. “The Sphere.”

“Yes, sweetie. I...I regret the way I went about it, but...I needed adventure. When you do one thing your entire life, it becomes you, it’s ingrained in you. I guess it’s just part of the McDuck blood, which you obviously know.”

“Of course. Dewey, Louie, and I have gone on adventures our whole lives, even if it wasn’t like the ones Uncle Scrooge went on when he was younger. And Uncle Donald ended up doing a lot of dangerous jobs. He never told us all of them, but I’m 100% sure he was a body guard at least five times for celebrities around the city.”

She hadn’t know that about him at all, but considering Donald’s Navy background it made sense. It made her wonder how often he was in danger while raising the boys. She had always assumed he did only boring desk work, but considering the need for adventure it was only necessary for him to have dangerous ones as well. “That’s the McDuck blood. At least that’s always what Uncle Scrooge said. But, I’m telling you this, because I always need that and...lately I haven’t done much of it.”

“Why don’t we go now then? Uncle Scrooge is always researching new places to go to and I’ve been seeing him researching about a place in Canada lately. I’m not certain where, but-“

“Huey, one adventure isn’t going to help me,” He paused and stared at her in confusion. “I need more than that. The grocery store has been nice, but I can’t be there anymore. It’s not enough.”

“Oh...so are you going to school then? There’s a lot of great courses at Yarvard University and it shouldn’t be too hard for you to get in, since Uncle Scrooge is on the board of directors. Or you can try New Quackmore. I think Uncle Donald went there before, not really sure what for though.”

“Huey, school has never been for me, and that would just...” Della’s tone was beginning to grow frustrated and she cut herself off. She didn’t think she could explain this as well as she thought.

“Mom?”

“Storkules, can you please explain your side? I don’t think I...” She had her hands squeezed right on her thighs, palms sweaty.

The demigod nodded, before gazing up to the 13-year-old. “Friend Hubert, I recently discovered from my...F-Father that a curse was bestowed upon myself at birth, one that has followed my form my entire existence.”

“What? What curse? Is it lethal? What are the actions taken to place it on you? Who did it? What does this have to do with my Mom? Wh-“ He had taken out a notebook and a pen from underneath his hat, scribbling away inside it.

“To hold those in the highest regards, that do no feel the same matter.” 

The young duck froze, staring at him with wide eyes. His eyes darted to the side to look at his Mom, then back at the demigod. His voice was low, eyes showing understanding. “Uncle Donald can never have a crush back on you...”

“I hold your uncle in the highest regard possible, Friend Hubert. My heart is a steady rhythm of eternal affection for my Donald, only to be existushed by the end of my existence.” Storkules told him, eyes bright with his desire.

Della stared at him, feeling her heart strings tug at the beautiful words. Huey leaned back, hand flying to his mouth. “Are you...in love with Uncle Donald?”

“Aye, in every sense...and this curse extends to every individual I hold in high regards... comrades in arms and those at the hearth.” 

“Anyone that you feel any type of love towards, doesn’t feel the same way back? That’s...how does that apply to me? How do you feel about me, Storkules?” He asked, scribbling down something in his notebook.

“You are my Donald’s offspring...” Della frowned at the choice wording, not liking that he decided to act as though Donald were their father. She frowned when his eyes glazed over, words coming out slurred. “...you are...the...”

“Storkules?” Della asked, before climbing back down the ladder. Huey followed after her as she stood directly in front of her friend. She raised her hand up, waving it at him, before poking him in the broad chest. He appeared to be frozen in place, unaware of his surroundings. “Ummm, dude, what’s wrong?”

“Mom, I think it’s the curse...I’m not sure why, but it’s not letting him answer the question?” Huey pondered aloud and wrote more down in his notebook.

“Ok, well, how do I make him unfreez-?”

“-my Donald’s offspring!” He suddenly blurted out loudly and Della cried out in surprise when his hand rose quickly into the air, nearly swatting her in the face. He blinked slowly, as though confused, before glancing around the room. He took in their concerned expressions. “Della, young Hubert, are you well? You appear quite distressed.”

“Um, Huey asked you a question about the curse, and you just froze up, and stopped talking.”

The demigod frowned. “What were you asking of myself?”

“How you felt about Huey?” 

“Aye, he is my Donald’s offspring, and-“

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to freeze up-anddddd, he froze up again.” Della sighed, staring at his frozen expression.

“That’s really odd...I have something I want to attempt when he comes back to himself. I have an idea, but I’m unsure if I’m right or not in my hypothesis.” 

“-my Donald’s offspring!” 

He appeared briefly confused once more by his surroundings, but Huey jumped directly into it without preamble. “Storkules, how do you feel about Uncle Donald?”

“I am confident I already informed you, but I hold my Donald in the highest regards.”

“How about Mom?”

“As though she were a sister, as much as fair Selene is.” Della definitely didn’t feel like that back, as she thought of him as a great friend, but not a sibling.

“And, how about your father, Zeus?”

Della gulped, knowing that the subject of Zeus was sensitive to him. Storkules opened and closed his bill a few times while preparing an answer. They could sense the nervous tension swirling in the air as he answered. “...My Father is the greatest God to grace the planet with an immortal presence. I have spent my entire life obeying his every command without question. My unwavering loyalty is steady throughout my every moment...at least I felt as though it had been, until recent events...”

Huey appeared extremely uncomfortable about the answer and Della was internally cringing when she listened to what the demigod had told them. Her son quickly moved on from the subject. “Uhhh, how about, uh, Dewey?”

“Young Dewford is my Donald’s off spring and...” His voice trailed off, expression freezing.

“Interesting...” Huey mumbled, jotting down another note.

“What? Did you figure something out?” 

Huey scratched the lid of the pen onto the side of his head and continued mumbling to himself. After a moment he nodded in confirmation. “Ok, I have a theory. I’m not completely certain, because I’m not obviously the one to cast it, but I believe the curse only affects those that are closest to him. Like you, or Uncle Donald, or Zeus.”

“Alright, but what about you, or Dewey, or anyone else he’s not super close wirh?”

“The curse doesn’t really seem to affect them. Like, the stronger the connection is, the more the curse affects the relationship. Since Storkules and I aren’t super close, the curse doesn’t affect our relationship at all. Instead he just...reboots? His answer was necessary, so his mind restarts to the beginning of his answer.”

“Dammit, I should have asked Hera more about it when I had the chance...”

“What? Hera, as in Goddess of home and hearth? You’ve met her?!” Huey’s eyes brightened in excitement.

“Oh, no, she’s a total...” Della felt the sense of eyes boring into the back of her head, a chill running down her spine. “...not as cool as you think. Besides, she’s the one that cursed Storkules.”

“What?” Huey appeared disappointed, pen squeezed tightly.

“Queen Hera always does what she must for the good of the world,” Storkules had unfrozen during their discussion. “She did what she had to when I was being born.”

“Are you kidding me, dude? She basically tortured your mother during child birth-“ Storkules flinched at the words and Della realized what she had said in front of her son.

The 13-year stared at them with wide eyes, his hand shaking as he took in the words. Storkules’ face had crumpled and Della shame consume her entire being. He turned and abruptly walked out of the room without a word. Huey watched him leave and turned back to her with a whisper of fright. “W-What did you mean by that, Mom?”

Della hadn’t planned for the conversation to go sideways like that at all. She needed to back pedal immediately! She couldn’t just drop her friend’s dark secret on her young son. “Never mind that. It’s personal, so just forget it. The curse that Storkules has though, it needs to be broken. And Hera asked us to do something to...help the world. If we do it we can break his curse and...Sweetie, I need to leave, do you understand?”

“I...I don’t understand,” Huey was backing up slightly. “You just...it only feels like yesterday that you got back here, so why are you wanting to leave?”

“Sweetie, I told you, Storkules needs help, and Hera to-“

“Why do you want to leave?” Huey cut her off, clearly irritated by what she had said.

Her children always seemed to be more observant than she would give them credit for. She sighed. “That adventure you feel in your blood? I...always have it coursing through my veins. It never sleeps. The grocery store...it’s nice, but I need more. This isn’t permanent, I promise, but Storkules needs me, and I need this to...survive. You understand that, don’t you, Huey?”

Huey had ripped his hat off of his head and threw it harshly at the ground. “You’re just leaving us!”

She stepped over his hat and engulfed him in a hug. She could feel his shoulders heaving, the tension in the them, and suddenly it vanished. His wings wrapped around her waist and he began to cry loudly. Della stroked his head, running her fingers through his tousled feathers. “Shhh...I know...this hurts me too, but...I promise you I am coming back...

“P-Please...please, come back...” He was staring up at her face, tears rolling down the sides of his face. 

“I always do, don’t I?” Her eyes were filled with tears as well. 

Dewey stood in the hallway, near the door, hand balled up into his shirt. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were squeezed shut. His Mom was leaving them once again and he didn’t know what to do. He turned away and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy for the return of Ducktales on April 4th! I was honestly expecting a much longer wait, so this is a happy surprise. This story is definitely going to be veered far off from canon pretty soon then, but I hope you all continue to read my story until the very end. As always kudos and love for Castaway are wholly appreciated!
> 
> Greek Translations:  
•“Σιωπή, θνητός.“  
“Silence, mortal.”
> 
> •“Μου αρέσει πολύ το πνεύμα σου. Θα σας συγχωρήσω αυτή τη φορά, ανόητος θνητός.”  
“I really like your spirit. I'm going to forgive you this time, stupid mortal. "
> 
> Symbols of Hera include peacocks, apples, and pomegranates.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We just got you back and you want to leave. It’s not permanent sure, but you don’t care about us enough to stay!”

Louie Duck had finally arrived home, feeling more relaxed than he had previously in the week and a half. In fact, he had a smile gracing his features and was thinking about how he had finally got the much needed space from his family after the exhausting time he had endured. 

He thought going to spend time with Boyd would be a great idea, catching up with his friend, and learning more about his time at the private boarding school his new parents had enrolled him in. While Boyd had originally wanted to go to public school, to be further involved with the Ducks, and to distant himself until Doofus warmed up to him living with them. The decision was ultimately made to have him attend private as it was deemed that Boyd would fit in better with those at the private school.

And there was an unexpected event that occurred a number of months ago as well: While over the past year Mark Beaks had remained his usual obnoxious self, he had come to think of the android fondly. While it appeared that the Drakes would continue to have custody over Boyd, Beaks had taken to visiting the android on the weekends to spoil him endlessly. Despite all the flaws (the many, many Louie had counted), the one redeeming feature had been his treatment of Boyd. Louie had even asked briefly during their time that day about how it felt and his friend had responded simply. “While I once knew him to be my father, I personally find that no longer to be the case. In fact, he now insists I call him ‘Uncle Mark’.”

After spending time in the park, the 13-year-old had finally returned home, planning on taking a nap. He hadn’t expected to walk into the mansion and immediately be dragged into the dining room by the back of his hoodie. “What the hell?!”

Louie had choked when he was dragged into the room, hands scrabbling at his neck, before he realized it was Dewey. He ignored the surprised question, letting go, in favor of pacing back and forth. His brother immediately started to ramble quickly, a red hue high on his cheeks. “I can’t believe this! I really can’t! She’s just going to up and leave, after we’re finally reunited! She’s only been here a year and she’s already ditching us!”

“Right, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I’m kinda pissed off right now that you decided to strangle me.” He replied as the duck paused in his shouting. Louie rubbed at his throat, pulling the collar of the hoodie down from his neck line.

Dewey whirled around to his brother. “Mom! She’s planning on leaving! I caught her telling Huey in our bedroom!”

Louie’s eyes widened, anger forgotten. “Wait, hold on, are you sure? Were you there for the entire conversation? You might have missed something important about why she’s planning on leaving. Or maybe she isn’t even at all?”

“She is definitely leaving! I heard her say it to Huey. And yeah, I wasn’t there the whole time, but I saw Storkules leaving the room all upset, so I went over, and then I heard them talking to each other about it.”

“She probably has an actual reason then. How about instead of trying to choke me out with my own hoodie and jumping to conclusions, you can actually ask her like a normal animal? Mom probably only told Huey first, since obviously neither of us were here.”

“I can’t just ask her!”

Louie raised an eyebrow. “And is there a reason why?”

“Mom’s probably-“

“I’m gonna just stop you there,” Louie cut off Dewey, raising a hand at him. “As always, you’re jumping to conclusions before you see all the angles, dude. I don’t know what you’re planning, but personally I’m going upstairs myself to ask Mom what’s happening. You can join me if you want.”

“Just do whatever! See if I care!” Dewey yelled at him abruptly, as Louie waltzed out of the dining room, and began to head upstairs. He shook his head, knowing his brother was still angry at the rest of the family. Whatever was going on with Mom seemed to fuel it though, but Louie wasn’t going to let that sway his emotions. Yes, Uncle Scrooge and Mom hadn’t been punishing Dewey in the correct way, but that didn’t mean he could stay mad at them forever.

And that statement solidified itself into his brain when he walked into his room and saw Huey with Mom. The pair were sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, staring at a D&D guidebook, speaking in low tones. He could see his brother practically glowing in the presence of their Mom. “...so, if you want to try DMing, doing a quest like this would be a good starter I think, Mom.”

“I can add my own twist though, can’t I?” Della asked, nodding at whatever she was being shown.

“Yes, you can pretty much do whatever you want as the DM. I’ve never been that good at it, because I can’t really think of good twists. I feel like you would be though.”

“Aw, thanks sweetie,” She rubbed his shoulder gently. “I want to try at tomorrow’s session then. I think I can fix up something by then.”

“Mom?” Louie entered the room and the pair looked up at his arrival.

Della smiled at him, though her eyes betrayed an edge of sadness to them. “Hi, baby. How was your day?”

“It was good...I hung out with Boyd at the park, just to catch up.”

“How’s boarding school been for Boyd? I know he really wanted to go to public school, but the Drakes insisted it would be better than public.”

Louie sat down on her opposite side, shrugging. “He’s doing alright. He says the other kids are super nice to him, but he misses us. You should text him when you get the chance, Huey.”

“I will...I just have a few things on my mind...” Huey glanced away, not further explaining. Louie frowned at the reaction, but couldn’t decipher it’s meaning. He knew what the main problem at the moment was and it wasn’t Huey’s unusual behavior.

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something.” Della said after a brief pause between the three of them.

“I know, Dewey overheard you, and kinda freaked out.” 

She rubbed her hand across her face with a sigh. “Of course Dewey did...how’s he taking it?”

“Uh, yeah, not so good. He was talking a million miles a minute.”

“He’s probably working himself up and not wanting to talk to anyone at all right now...” Della wrapped an arm around her son clad in the green hoodie. “And what about you?”

Louie gulped thickly, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. “I-I think I can forgive you...especially since you’re going to leave for awhile.”

“And, as I told Huey, it won’t be permanent. Storkules needs help and I need...I need to have what my heart is telling me. I need adventure, I need to be reminded who I am.”

He quickly wiped his eyes, willing the tears away. Even though it hurt, he understood his mother wanted happiness, just as Louie did. “And, what does Storkules need help with?”

“He has a curse that Hera, the Goddess of home and hearth, would break if Mom helped her out on a quest.” Huey explained, shutting the book as he did so.

“Wait, Hera? An actual Goddess? I already knew he was cursed, because he told me, but I didn’t know you guys talked to an actual Goddess.”

“It only happened earlier today, but I should let you know she’s not as...great as you think she would be. She was actually the one to put the curse on Storkules.” Della explained to him, frowning when she felt the presence of being watched returning.

“Seriously? That’s pretty messed up that she did that to Storkules. What is his curse anyway?”

“He’s cursed to have the people he care about most not feel the same way back.” Huey informed his brother, while Della nodded in confirmation.

Louie scrunched his face up. “That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Unless Storkules cares about someone like Zeus, who I don’t believe actually ever loved him in the first place.” Della clenched her fists, feeling heat rise onto her cheeks. 

Louie’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Also, there’s an problem with the curse now,” Huey told his brother. “Storkules believes he’s needed here, so he can’t leave, even though he wants to.”

“Uncle Donald needs all the help he can get right now, so he is needed here though.” 

Della sighed. “Louie...He really isn’t. Donald needs his actual family to be here for him right now.”

“Why are you leaving then?” Louie asked her, voice sounding thick with emotion.

“If Uncle Donald needs us, shouldn’t you stay then?” Huey sounded nearly hopeful, as though she were to change her mind.

She swallowed thickly, before glancing away from her 13-year-olds. “Donald doesn’t need me right now; he needs Uncle Scrooge and the three of you. If you all could survive ten years without me, you can survive a little longer. And, I like I said, it will just be temporary. I’ll come back and things will be different in a good way. You’ll see.”

“Is it actually going to be though?” Said the bitter voice of Dewey by the doorway. The trio hadn’t even been aware of when he had arrived, but his eyes were full a mix of anguish and anger. His hands were clenched by his sides, unaware of how much he looked like his mother in that moment. “We just got you back and you want to leave. It’s not permanent sure, but you don’t care about us enough to stay!”

Della heard Donald’s voice echoing in her head, yelling at her that she didn’t care about the family. She felt her heart pain at the words and couldn’t believe one of her own sons could say that to her after everything she had done to return to them. But, she could tell he was hurting as well, eyes shining with the sadness he felt for the thought that his own mother didn’t care about her children. “Dewey, of course I care about you!”

“Dude, I’m mad too, but what the hell?” Louie stared at him, surprised Dewey had said that, especially after all the years they had dreamed of the love their mother would give them when she returned.

“Louie, just stop it.” Huey whispered, reaching behind Della to press his hand against his arm in warning.

“Really? Because, you’re wanting to leave us willingly, and that doesn’t sound like you care at all!” Dewey had finally exploded, ignoring both of his brother’s words.

Della could feel the situation beginning to unravel in front of her. She waved him over, feeling nervous that he truly believed she didn’t hold on ounce of love in her heart for him. “Dewey, just please come here and I can explain, I promise.”

“No, I don’t want to hear this at all!” Dewey slammed his palm against the door frame, ignoring the stinging pain he received. Della held her breath, waiting for her son to continue speaking, hoping to understand what he needed. “You know how often I dreamed about you growing up?”

“We all did, Dewey-“ Louie began to interrupt, clearly annoyed by his brother’s behavior. 

Dewey continued on, as though he hadn’t heard Louie in the first place. “I asked Uncle Donald so many times about you and he would always just change the subject. So, I just started to dream up fantasies on my own. Ones that I’ve never even told anyone about. I would think you were maybe in the military on some crazy mission, or like secretly a famous actresses that couldn’t let her fans know about us, or some crazy cool secret spy.”

“I mean, Mom is technically going to do the whole ‘secret,-“ Huey began, only to be cut off.

“I don’t understand how you’re okay with this?!” Dewey shouted at him harshly. “She’s leaving us, you idiot!”

“Because Mom is going to return later, you douche bag!” Louie had jabbed back immediately. Huey had snapped his bill shut, tears returning to his eyes by his brother shouting insults at him.

“Louie, stop with the cussing this instant. Dewey, I want you to sit down here with us this instant. We’re going to actually talk about this as a family. I don’t want us being upset at each other.” Della had stood up while pleading with him, desperate to salvage the relationship they all had with one another.

“No, I’m not going over there,” He glared at her cold heartedly and she was instantly reminded of Donald’s simmering iciness she had been on the receiving end of lately. “I’m leaving, before you do.”

“Dewey!“ Both of her other children had leapt up the moment he finished his sentence, the pair running to the doorway he had just exited from. Della continued to stare at the spot he had been previously standing. Her son had idolized her endlessly throughout his life and now that he truly knew who she was, he couldn’t handle it. He had seen the true her and had denied it wholeheartedly. 

“Don’t-” They pair had both froze at her nearly panicked voice. Della couldn’t bear to be alone right now, but she couldn’t convey that type of feeling to her children. She cleared her throat and set her face as they turned around to her. “It’s...It’s his own decision not to accept me doing this and I have to...listen no matter how much I don’t want to.”

“But, Mom, he can’t say all that crap to you!” Louie countered in return, chest puffing up.

“We love you and he’s acting like he...” Huey didn’t finish the sentence, but she knew what he implied.

She finally answered, finding her eyes welling with tears, and heart hurting. “If he doesn’t...I...I can’t stop him from thinking that. I love him completely and I won’t ever stop... but, if he doesn’t, at least I have you two to love me.”

They pair of brother stared at her, mirroring tears welling in their eyes. Huey and Louie sprinted back across the room to her, Della opening her arms fo receive them in return. She smiled to herself, knowing she was lucky to have the loving children she did. The trio remained with one another for the rest of the night, unaware of the watchful eyes from outside the mansion that observed them each day.  
*

“Excuse me-“ A finger was raised into the air, pointed directly into his face. He paused mid-speech for the third time now, as the receptionist picked up the ringing telephone. He continued on, despite the clear indication that they wanted him to wait. “-I said, my nephew is here for his appointment.”

The fare feathered duck glanced up, her dark brown eyes reflecting Scrooge McDuck’s impatient face. She pulled her bill away from the receiver. “You can wait your turn, just like the rest of us, Mr. McDuck.”

Scrooge grumbled under his breath, voice lowly. “My turn was over fifteen minutes ago...”

Donald wasn’t even paying attention by this point, instead staring at the photograph of the excited dog with a brand new prosthetic arm. He felt uncomfortable seeing the type of joy spread across the face of the actor, eyes darting to his partially steaming uncle. While Scrooge McDuck didn’t quite have the level of fury that Donald had, but the duck wasn’t exactly going to stay calm forever. “Lass, I have been waiting here for the past twenty minutes and I refuse to wait another moment more! My nephew is here for his appointment right this instant!”

She raised an eyebrow at his outburst, before finishing up her conversation. She put down the phone while lacing her fingers together, staring directly into Donald’s eyes. “And, is your nephew unable to speak, Mr. McDuck?”

Donald tried not to visibly cringe at the judgement in her voice, aware of the annoyance his uncle presented at the moment. It was clear she didn’t care for his uncle in the least, as many of the city of Duckburg didn’t. Scrooge, of course, was able to jab back immediately. “I would say he definitely is able to, but I wholeheartedly doubt he wants to speak to the likes of you.”

“And what likes am I? Because you sure treat myself and others as though we are-“ Donald was certain he was missing the context of their previous meeting. He knew Della had been here for her own fitting, but wasn’t aware that his uncle had clashed with yet another citizen of Duckburg during that time.

“I only treat you with the same kindness I have received!” Scrooge snapped loudly.

“And I only treat you as the greedy billionaire that likes to destroy the lives of others that you truly are.” She explained, uncapping a bottle of hot pink nail polish. 

Donald could feel a headache coming on with all for the arguing that was going on. His uncle must have sensed his discomfort, as he suddenly decided to get back to the point. “Can my nephew get to his appointment now or not?”

She frowned at Scrooge, but then proceeded to once again make direct eye contact with Donald. “What’s your name?”

He stepped forward, leaning partly against the counter, as Scrooge stepped away to allow him to take control, surprisingly without protest. “Duck. Donald Duck.”

“Oh, how funny. My last name is Duck too. It’s pretty common one though,” She recapped her polish, nails on one hand half finished. She turned to her computer, typing rapidly. Her eyes scanned the screen, before clicking a few times. “You’re appointment is at 12:00, correct?”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

She looked up with another raised eyebrow and he flushed at the heavy judgement in her eyes. “You think? Or you know?”

“I-I know.” He stuttered, feeling embarrassment for speaking as though he were a child. Scrooge had opened his mouth, clearly angry about her treatment, but Donald’s hand darted out to touch the billionaire’s wrist to signal that he didn’t want trouble.

Her gaze softened, eyes darting down to his missing limb. Her voice lowered, judgement vanished instantly when it was apparent he was uncomfortable. “I’m going to need you to fill out this form, Mr. Duck. Just bring it back once you’re finished.”

She spoke as though Scrooge hadn’t been present the entire conversation. The billionaire snatched the form that she presented upon the counter, glaring at the white feathered duck on the opposite side. He retreated back to a seat in the lobby area, with the receptionist rolling her eyes at him. The nail polish was uncapped once more, the duck continuing to paint her nails. “Your uncle takes offensive very easily.”

Donald sighed. “Uncle Scrooge isn’t that bad once you get used to him.”

Her eyes bored into his own, adjusting her pink bow in her hair before replying. “As with every billionaire’s heir, you are completely ignorant to their outrageous behavior.”

Donald’s first reaction was surprise that she understood him well enough immediately to reply back as fast as she did. The second feeling, that he had to will away, was the burning feeling of anger at her voice. “I’m aware of what’s he done, but he’s not who he once was. He’s changed a lot over the past two years.”

“Well, when the public actually starts seeing these changes, I’ll believe it. For now, my opinion of him stands, Mr. Duck.” She blew on her fingers, attitude dismissive.

He had to hold back blowing up in her face at the words, barely able to contain his furious behavior. He hobbled away as quickly as could, dropping himself into the seat next to his uncle. He dropped his crutches hard, allowing them to clatter noisily upon the ground. He didn’t feel bad when the receptionist jolted in surprise, bottle of nail polish spilling on her desk. She gasped, reaching out to her box of tissues to wipe up the mess. “Who does she think she is, acting as though she knows everything there is about me?”

His uncle had his arms crossed over his chest as he complained. Donald had taken the paperwork from him, beginning to fill it out. “Probably just someone you screwed over, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Her? I’ve never seen her in my life!”

“She probably was indirectly then and blames you for it. You should know by now that’s how it goes. You did a lot of messed up things to other people in the past, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Aye and I’ll be paying for it until the end of times it seems! I hardly understand this city though. I’ve made amends in the past two years and no one has acknowledged them at all! Even when I stopped the Moon Invasion, Glomgold got all the credit.”

“If I remember right, wasn’t it actually Selene? She’s the one that made that...that made another moon.” He could taste a bitterness on his tongue when he thought about saying that alien’s name.

“Yes, but who was the one that did all the effort required to get to that point, lad?”

“From what I heard from Della, herself,” He shook his head, recalling the hours he endured listening to her made up story about saving the world single handily. “Ms. Beakley said it was our friends and family though, which I’m more willing to believe than only you.”

Scrooge flushed, before shaking his head. “Never mind Bentina! I think the real problem here is that people are judging my past actions instead of my current ones.”

Though he hadn’t meant it to be directly aimed at Donald, the younger duck knew he was guilty of doing just that. His pen pressed down hard, cracking under the pressure applied. He could easily snap the pen in half, go into a rage after the comments from the two ducks in the room, but he knew this would be the worse place to do so. He needed an prosethic desperately. While some amputees could do well without a prosethic, he couldn’t imagine himself as such. His lifestyle made it difficult and he knew adventure was always stalking him every waking moment. It was like a curse upon the family’s bloodline. Instead he didn’t reply, allowing the billionaire to his grumbling.

He handed the paperwork to Scrooge without a word once he was finished, letting him bring it to the receptionist. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but the woman appeared visibly annoyed, her victory rolls bouncing furiously as she replied. He sighed, knowing this would become a regular thing if he brought his uncle for every appointment. He could barely control his own temper, so the idea of keeping Scrooge at bay sounded torturous. Said duck turned around, calling to him. “Lad, she says she’s going to take you to the doctor.”

Donald bent over, picking up both of his crutches, before standing with them. He went to the desk, observing the woman now standing beside it. She wore a shirt sleeved turquoise colored swing dress, with the collar that swooped across her collarbone. The receptionist seemed to be reminiscent of decade not of their own and Donald found himself thinking about how unique that was. “Mr. Duck, you can follow me.”

“You want me to come with you, Donald?” Scrooge asked, completely ignoring her.

“No, Uncle Scrooge, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting out here then.”

The receptionist cleared her throat, grasping at his attention, as his uncle went back to his seat with another dirty look thrown at her over his shoulder. Donald turned to her, allowing her to lead the way to one of the back rooms. She kept a slower pace, allowing him to stay close to her. She paused at a door, opening it for him. “You can sit in the chair and wait for the orthotist here. She’ll be with you shortly.”

“Thanks...?” He awaited for her to reply with her name, but she simply shut the door instead. The duck rolled his eyes, knowing he might have to hold himself back around her more than Scrooge had already today. He didn’t wait long however, as a heavy set hippopotamus entered a few minutes later. 

”Mr. Duck, I’m going to be assisting you with your consultation today,” She explained gently, reaching out to shake his hand. He greeted her in return. “Before we begin, do you have any specific questions?”

“Uh, yeah. How long does it take between now and getting the prosthetic?”

“The entire process for receiving a prosthetic takes roughly about a month, then there will be a follow up about two weeks afterwards. As your uncle booked me to work with you exclusively during this time, it will actually take as little as three weeks.”

“Is it...painful? I had one that I made for myself and it wasn’t comfortable the entire time I wore it.” He hesitatingly asked her. He couldn’t imagine the stabbing pain from the jagged wood always distantly bothering him again.

“As I’m certain you are not a professional in making a prosthetic, I’m going to say that the design was poorly created. If done correctly it shouldn’t hurt once you are used to the feeling of it. Why did you make one instead of seeking a professional, if I may ask?”

“Uh...I was...stranded from civilization, so I couldn’t.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you had that happen to you. It must have been a traumatic experience for you. I’m certain that this will be significantly less painful of an ordeal. Now, I have to ask you a question that might make you distressed in context to what happened to you. Are you willing to hear it?”

“I cut it off myself.” He blurted immediately, cringing at his tone.

“I suppose you’ve been asked that by others already then. I only briefly glanced at your amputation and came to that very conclusion on my own, but I did want to confirm. As a result of that, you do have phantom pains, correct?”

“Sometimes. It’s usually when I first wake up or if I’ve pushed myself too much.”

“That’s to be expected of course,” She had been filling out a form of her own during the conversation. She flipped to a page behind the first one, eyes scanning. “Alright, the form you filled out in the waiting room says you’re 5’2, you’re 105 pounds, and you’re 38-years-old?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, you definitely need to gain weight for this procedure. Have you upped your intake of food since returning? I know being stranded would obviously make it hard to find reliable access to food, but you’re about twenty five pounds underweight at the moment. You actually should realistically gain more, but your prosthetic will weight about ten pounds roughly, which you will need to be able to withstand on a daily basis.”

“I’ve gained about five pounds since I’ve come back.”

“Alright. By the time next week rolls around I would prefer you to gain another five. We can still provide you a prosthetic while you are under, but you need to gain that weight soon in order for it not to cause a strain on your body.”

“Ok, I can do that.”

“Alright,” She responded, taking down a note. “Mr. Duck, what level of physical activity are you expecting in your day to day life? I know being the nephew of Scrooge McDuck comes with some dangers, but I’m unsure how often you join in on these excursions.”

“More than I would like to admit.” He chuckled a little bit, knowing that no matter how often he prayed to live a peaceful life, it would never come true. 

She flashed a smile in return. “We will definitely need to take that level of activity into account then.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“It certainly does. Now, I have to physically examine your amputation as well,” She rolled her chair closer, reaching out to his leg. “May I?”

“Go ahead.” Her gloved hands made contact with his stump, prodding at it firmly. Her hands were heavier than what he expected, weight pressing down. His nerves twinged from the forceful touching, leg spasming. He held his bill firmly shut, despite the pain she had caused.

She looked up at Donald, pausing in her touching. “Are you in pain, Mr. Duck?”

“J-Just a bit.” He gritted out, eyes squeezing shut. The weight lessened and he blinked open his eyes slowly to see her lightly touching instead now. The pain retreated, though the spasming continued. 

The doctor pulled away a moment later, writing down something on her paperwork. “You’re extremely sensitive, which is expected considering how frayed your nerves are. I know you likely didn’t have anything for a clean cut, so you can’t be at fault, but it is due how poorly it was removed that it now continues to have residual limb pain.”

Donald raised his hand to run his fingers through a few stray feathers on his head. He nodded after a moment. “Will that be a problem with my prosthetic?”

“It may cause irritation, especially during the first month you’re getting used to the prosthetic. To change gears though, I am going to ask you another question. It’s perfectly normal to experience this, as 60-70% of amputees do, but do you have any phantom pains relating to your leg?”

“Occasionally. Usually right after I come out of a...flashback. I remember my leg being there and I come out of it and my leg isn’t there and it just hurts.” He admitted, feeling hesitant to explain the few episodes he had.

“That’s to be expected as well, considering what you have suffered. We are coming up to the end of this examination. Do you have any further questions or comments to make at this time, Mr. Duck?”

“No, not really.”

“Alright then. We’ll send in this paperwork to your uncle’s insurance company for them to approve and we can have you set up your the next session. Our secretary will take care of all of that at the front and she’ll verify that the information is correct. I hope you have a great day, Mr. Duck.” She shook Donald’s hand once more and led him back out to the front lobby.

The doctor handed the paperwork to the receptionist who took it with a smile at her. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Let me know when Mrs. Johnson arrives later in the day, please.” 

“Aye, aye, captain!” The duck presented the doctor a salute, before the hippo retreated to the back office. She began to review the paperwork and typing onto the computer. Scrooge appeared behind Donald, leaning over the counter to watch. Without looking up, she placed the piece of paper onto the counter, and asked them. “Your insurance is correctly filled out, yes?”

Scrooge snatched it up and glanced at briefly, before setting in back on the counter. He cleared his throat, voice smug. “Aye, though I suppose it’s difficult for you to realize that considering you can’t see past your own-”

“Thank you Mr. McDuck, I’ll take it from here,” She snapped in return, snatching the sheet of paper to copy into the computer. “When would be best for you next week, Mr. Duck?”

Scrooge had glowered at her response, instead allowing Donald to respond. “Is Thursday open?”

“Yes, at 1:00 and 2:30.”

“2:30.”

“Alright, you are all set. I’ll be seeing hopefully only you next week, Mr. Duck.” She smiled pleasantly, ignoring the seething look his uncle gave her.

“Why you-“ Scrooge had raised his cane to shake it at her and she gave him a wry look. 

Donald raised one his crutches to block him across his chest. “Uncle Scrooge, please, this is embarrassing.”

“Mhmm, I don’t know. I’ve seen some videos of your little temper tantrums before and those are probably worse.” She commented, returning to painting her nails.

Donald felt his face heat up, anger flushing with painful heat under his collar. Scrooge had stopped swinging his cane and realized his nephew had been pushed too far. The younger duck started to shake and steam almost seemed to magically appear from his ears. “Oh, now you’ve done it, lass.”

Donald immediately exploded at the words. He flung one of his crutches across the room, with the force of a semi-truck barreling down the highway. The noise of a lamp falling over was heard clattering throughout the room. She didn’t appear to flinch, but she did pause in her nail painting. Donald began to quack loudly, but didn’t luckily chuck his other one. Scrooge had the decency to look embarrassed and smiled awkwardly at her. “Urmmmm, I’ll pay for that...”

“Or maybe you could hire me as a secretary and I’ll call it even.” She coyly replied, making direct eye contact with him.

Scrooge narrowed his eyes at her. “You...if you believe for a moment I would hire you after the way you’ve treated me-“

Donald chucked his other crutch and the front glass door shattered. She placed her hand on the phone and began to dial that all familiar three numbers for emergencies. Scrooge leaned across the desk, hand over top her’s. “You start Monday and can call this number to have my chauffeur drive you to your work location.”

He used his other hand to grab a business card from his coat pocket and set it on the counter. She let go of the phone and Scrooge pulled his hand away. She smirked at him, voice innocent. “And you’ll pay me double what I make here?”

The billionaire appeared pained, eyeing her hand that was etching closer back to the phone. Finally he sighed loudly and nodded. “...Aye.”

“Thank you, Mr. McDuck, you’re ever so kind,” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and he just shook his head. “Now, I would suggest leaving before one of the doctors decides to actually call the cops.”

He practically growled, shaking from the anger he was trying to bury. “We’ll be right out then Miss...?”

Donald quacked loudly in the background as he practically destroyed the lobby, while she smiled sweetly at the billionaire with a deliberate look in her eyes. “Daisy, Daisy Duck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisy Duck is definitely a Slytherin and nothing any of you say can change that fact!
> 
> Just a note for everyone that reads this, as this all affects you, please be careful in these upcoming weeks. Please keep your hands clean and stay away from large crowds! I know it’s not considered deadly for younger people, but you don’t want to accidentally pass it on to someone that has a weaker immune system or is just someone more susceptible to the virus. Please stay safe!
> 
> The final note I have is that due to the virus, my work location has closed down until at least the end of the month (they’re paying me for hours at least!) and as a result I will actually have some time to write out more chapters now. An update will definitely come sooner than you think. As always kudos and any love for this story is greatly appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.” Homer, The Iliad

When Donald had entered the foyer of the mansion after his appointment, he hadn’t expected to find Della leaning against the wall beside the entrance. Scrooge had walked directly into his frozen body, causing him to tumble forward immediately. His sister had moved forward on reflex to catch him, though he was able to catch himself with one of his own crutches. The sailor found himself cursing, annoyed by having to save himself from face planting. “Dammit!”

“Sorry, lad! Are you alright?” Scrooge immediately asked, hand resting on his back as Donald straightened.

“Are you ok, Don?” Della asked with a furrowed brow, standing before him.

Donald waved a hand at both of them, glaring. “I’m fine, just stop asking! What are you doing right here anyways?”

His twin fidgeted, appearing unconfident which was an oddity in itself. Her eyes flickered to Scrooge, before nodding to herself. Donald immediately knew what she had decided, finding himself flushing. His voice was shaking suddenly, quiet in tone. “D-Della, please, don’t do this.” 

Donald was begging the final time for her silence, eyes wide at the determination she spoke with.”I already told the boys, Donald, so it’s too late.”

Scrooge’s eyes flicked back and forth between the twins, confusion clearly etched upon his face. “What’s all this about now?”

“What?!” He exclaimed, feeling anxiety clenched tightly in his chest. It was too late, she had crushed his boys, she had destroyed everything he worked hard to achieve for his family, she had completely ripped his heart to shreds-

“You know, Huey and Louie weren’t exactly happy, but they accepted it. So, thanks for making me doubt my decision like that. Apparently my own brother can’t trust me the way my children can.” Her eyes were a mixture of upset emotions, unaware of Donald’s internal turmoil.

Their uncle was frowning at them. “What are you two speaking about? Is this about the fight you had with Donald, lass?”

“...what...what did Dewey say?” She hadn’t mentioned him he suddenly realized. Her eyes flicked away from his panicked ones. Donald knew instantly Dewey didn’t accept it, he could feel it in his gut. The young duck had always hurt the way Donald did, as deeply betrayed as he would when he was wronged. He hated to say it, but he needed to. He couldn’t hold in that ugly feeling bursting from his heart. “You thought everyone would accept it, didn’t you? Now it’s not just me that knows you’re abandoning them.”

“Alright, what the devil are you two going on about?” Scrooge had stepped out from behind Donald, standing in between them to prevent the fight from escalating, and searching for answers.

“Go on then, since you’ve already decided to ruin this! Tell Uncle Scrooge how you’re leaving us!” Donald was heaving with deep breathes, becoming unhinged due to his anger.

“I’m not abandoning anyone, dammit Donald!” She hissed, before turning her attention to her uncle. “Uncle Scrooge, me and Storkules have decided to go on quest.”

“Alright, and why you telling me this, lass? I don’t understand why that has Donald all upset. We all go on adventures, that isn’t new for any of us. Though I am surprised by your choice of companion I must say.”

“Uncle Scrooge, she’s not leaving for a day or two, she’s leaving for much longer.” The sailor hissed furiously.

Scrooge frown deepened. “Della? How long are you going to be gone?”

“Uncle Scrooge, I need this, badly. I need to find my-“ 

His eyes narrowed at her, voice low. “How long, Della?”

She gulped, averting his gaze, voice going meek. “...it could be possibly years.”

Scrooge shut his eyes, squeezing his cane tightly. He breathed out thickly, thinking about how long she had been gone last time. He had barely had her back for almost two years and she already wanted to leave again. He reeled himself in, seeking answers for why she wanted to leave. “Why, lass? You just got back.”

“I really didn’t though. It’s been almost two years. And, I need this. I’ve lost who I am, I need to reclaim a part of me. I’m not meant to work at a nine to five job. I’m meant for adventure! Surely you understand that, Uncle Scrooge. You’ve been doing this your entire life.” Her eyes stared at him with hope, for him to understand her plight.

“Aye, I do. And, I didn’t have anyone close to me for most of life. You understand what you’re about to do? I didn’t have anyone to warn me, but I will now. If you go through with this, you’re going to lose yours sons.” 

“Don’t bother, Uncle Scrooge. I’ve already told her and she won’t listen.” Donald bitterly spit out, eyes dark.

“Lad, I’m not going to give up that easily.”

“Louie and Huey accepted this already! And sure, Dewey is upset now, but I believe he’ll come around. Even if he doesn’t, I can’t force him to love me, even though I do dearly. Why won’t you accept this, Donald?”

“Because you’re just leaving us like last time!”

Scrooge raised a hand, silencing him. Usually Donald would have protested his uncle doing so, but he was startled by the action. He had expected his uncle to be as furious as he was in the moment. Scrooge’s voice was steady, though there was a tone of sadness in it. “Della, are you certain you want this?”

Her eyes were shining with tears and desperation. “More than anything in the world.”

“Apparently even more than the boys!” Donald exploded, lurching forward a step, and nearly losing his grip on one of his crutches.

Della looked as though she had been shot, face aghast at his cruel words. Her bill opened and closed a handful of times without a word. Their uncle gulped, before speaking quietly while Donald seethed next to Scrooge. “Lad, you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?! Because from what I’m understanding she’s willing to abandon the boys at the first chance she gets! And, you’re just going to let her get away with it, just as you always do!”

“Only because I could never say no to either of your happinesses,” Scrooge admitted, both of the twins staring at him in the display of raw truth. “I could never say no if it meant that you two would be miserable.”

Donald sagged, voice sounding defeated. “...then, I guess you win, Della. Like you always do.”

Della’s raised her hands to her bill, eyes welled with tears at her brother’s words. “I-I didn’t...this isn’t about...Don, please, don’t be like this. This is about me, not-“

“It’s always about you, isn’t it? Huey and Louie are going to tell you what you want to hear, because they look up to you. They’re going to be heart broken though...and Dewey might not ever forgive you.” The sailor’s voice was shaking, just as his head was in response to her action. 

Scrooge slowly turned his head to Donald, voice holding a tone of sadness. “Lad, if she needs this, then we must allow her to make this decision. I let you leave when you wanted to and I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t allow her to as well.”

Della stared at him in open shock, before a smile appeared, and she began to wail. “T-Thank you, Uncle Scrooge, I was so...scared you wouldn’t...”

He smiled back at her, not shedding a tear, despite the turmoil he felt inside. Donald only stared at the billionaire, face aghast. She was going to destroy their uncle by doing this and she acted like she had been granted a mercy in doing so. She was going...destroy Donald. He couldn’t do this again. He had survived the first time for the sake of her children, but he didn’t think he could muster the strength to do it again. 

He watched the pair embrace and Donald stepped back from them. She was thanking him for his acceptance, the older duck stroking the back of her head in comforting matter. Scrooge was allowing her to do this, just as he allowed Donald to leave. The thumping of the crutches each time he stepped back wasn’t heard to their ears. Della Duck was leaving and just like last time Donald couldn’t do a thing to stop her. 

By the time the pair ended the embrace, Donald had retreated from the room entirely.  
*

Donald stared at his nephew from a distance, feeling as though he were viewing a reflection of himself.

An gnarled oak tree curled it’s roots in the soil below, dark bark stark against the blue sky. The bright colored leaves swayed from a light breeze, a few trailing down to the lap of the young duck below the tree. He hung his head, tears falling on top of the leaf lying in his lap. His fists were squeezed tight upon his legs and he was shaking subtly. Donald watched Dewey and listened to his painful loud sobbing. “Dewey?”

The 13-year-old looked up at his name, face snarled briefly before he realized who he was staring at. He blinked a few times, tears glistening on his lashes. His eyes widened, noticing the crutches sinking mildly into the the grass beneath his uncle. “Why are you back here, Uncle Donald? You’re crutches are gonna get stuck in the mud!”

By this point, Donald couldn’t care in the least about that. All he could see was a little duck, feeling misunderstood by the world. All he could see was his nephew in need of comfort. He gulped thickly, before continuing forward. He heard squelching with each step, the crutches sinking in slightly. He had to apply extra strength to pull them out, but after the near year of using his arms so frequently, he had gained upper body strength he didn’t have before. Though it became more difficult with each step, he continued on. Dewey hopped up, appearing mildly panicked. “It’s too muddy, stop!”

“I don’t care, Dewey.” His nephew stared at him in surprise, tears beginning to dry. He rushed forward to meet him part of the way. Donald reached him safely, staring at the young duck whose chest heaved with distress. Donald reached out a hand and Dewey immediately threw his arms around his waist. The sailor nearly fell over, but leaned back on his crutches for support to prevent it. 

“M-Mom i-is-“ Dewey sobbed, breaking off suddenly.

“I know...” He stroked the back of his head, whispering lowly. “I feel...the same way.”

“S-She doesn’t even...” 

“Your Mom does, but...she’s not exactly meant to be ok with the life she has,” She was incredibly selfish, but he could never utter those words to her son. “It hurts that she’s leaving, but we can’t do anything to change her mind.”

“Y-Your her brother though?” 

Donald didn’t have answer for that, because apparently that didn’t deter his sister in the least. She was leaving him behind in the dust as usual and she would never care. He needed to tread lightly though, when his nephew’s viewpoint of his own mother was so fragile. “She’s not leaving forever...it might be...a long time before she comes back though.”

“...you’ve never left us on purpose,” Dewey’s eyes were wide, staring up at him. He held his breath, uncertain on how to respond to the statement. While that had been true, he had left unintentionally for a near year. He hadn’t ever planned it though, but that didn’t change the fact that he had. “You would never do that, would you?”

Donald felt shame engulf him whole, because he had more than once seriously considered it over the years. He had left his family more times than he could count in the past, leaving behind a Della and Scrooge to themselves. He was absolutely certain if the boys didn’t exist he would do so again in a heartbeat. But, no matter what, his heart belonged wherever the boys stayed. He couldn’t ever willingly leave them. After a moment, he shook his head. “Never on purpose, Dewey.”

“I think that already makes you a better parent than Mom then,” Donald nearly choked on his breath at the words, shock engulfing him. Parent, Dewey had called him a parent! His Adam’s apple bobbled violently, unable to respond. “Uncle Donald?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I know you don’t know anything about who my father is-” Donald stared him, feeling his mouth going dry. Though Della had told him time and time again that she had been with too many animals to know the identity of their father, he had always suspected that she actually knew. He never pushed it though, as it had never mattered. Now more than ever though he wish he knew. “-but, I don’t care.”

“What?”

Dewey squeezed him tightly, eyes shining. “I know you’re my uncle...but sometimes I wish you were my dad.”

Donald shut his eyes, not responding for an entire full minute. Dewey didn’t push for him to speak, though he grip tightened. It felt desperate, as those begging him not to crush him with his words. The breeze blew through the tree’s leaves, before a few fell from above. He didn’t open his eyes, his voice sounding pained. “I wish you...I-I wish you were my son sometimes.”

“...but you’re my uncle.”

He gulped. “...yeah...”

“...and I like to call you Uncle Donald.”

“You do.”

Dewey buried his face into his chest, voice muffled. “...can you...maybe be my dad though?” 

Donald felt his stomach tighten in fear. He didn’t know how to respond. He could have never imagined one of his nephews saying that. And how would that affect Della’s status as a parent? While he was upset at her, he couldn’t ever take that away from her, never in a million years. His voice was spooked. “D-Dewey...”

The sailor could feel his nephew trembling, his shirt growing damp with tears. He couldn’t say no, he just couldn’t. Dewey need him now more than ever. He could feel the words forming, unable to stop them rolling off of his tongue. “Of course.”

“...thank you, Uncle Donald.” The 13-year-old squeezed him tightly and he inhaled deeply. Thought he thought this would have made him feel better, he ended up feeling worse knowing what he was doing to Della. But, she was leaving her sons, so someone had to once again step into the role of parent.  
*

“Storkules?” Della popped her head into the houseboat, noticing the demigod sitting at the dusty table. He glanced up at her briefly, before his eyes flickered back down to the book laid before him. She stood in front of him, before asking. “What are you reading there?”

“...in the centuries I have been among the living, my father...Zeus was unknown to be partial to assisting mortals in their personal conquests in a positive manner,” She stared at him briefly, before sitting down next to him. “Mortals however, seem to frequently praise him for being impartial and fair in moments of conflict.”

“Zeus is like considered the King of the Gods in a lot of stories, so that makes sense why they thought that. Though nowadays, not a lot of people actually believe in his existence, so that’s a pretty outdated belief.” She explained, recalling her years reading epics, as it had been required in her high school years.

“Aye...” The stork glanced nervously to the window nearby him, before sighing wearily. “...I am forsaken, therefore I need not harbor fear yet...”

“You should have not feared him in the first place.” Della whispered to him, hand resting on his forearm. 

“...it is nature to fear those in positions of power...those that allow wrong to be committed in the first place...” Storkules nodded to himself, before bravely finishing. “Zeus allowed my...my mother to suffer greatly at the hands of another and I...I suffered the consequences of it.”

Della nodded at him. “I know...and I’m sorry about that...and I’m sorry for saying that around the boys...I should have not.”

“You need not provide apologies for truths. You are content in the manner in which you are. I was...grieving about the truth at hand and...I could not bare another moment of it.” He confessed, appearing extremely vulnerable.

“Still, you wanted it to be private, and me with my big mouth blurted out one of your secrets. And Huey shouldn’t have heard me say something so...the wording was totally inappropriate.”

“Friend Della, I...” He looked briefly pained. “...I desire no apologies. I beseech thee to cease them.”

“...um, ok, I’ll just...” There was an awkward pause. The duck glanced to the book he had been reading, finding the top of the page to note the title of the novel. The Illiad. She didn’t recall exactly the plot line of the story, only that it was a Greek epic that featured Zeus in it. What was that even doing in here? She wondered if it belonged to Donald and how old it was. It looked to be torn beyond salving and the pages were yellowed with ages. Why did Donald even have such a novel? “Storkules, are you alright?”

“I am content.” He vaguely answered, as though unaware that was an automatic response.

She sighed. “Ok that’s...never mind I’m too...”

“Della?”

“Am I making a mistake?” She suddenly thought on her brother’s and son’s reactions earlier today. While Uncle Scrooge and her other two sons seems to accept her decision, they had stubbornly decided she was abandoning them. She couldn’t help but start to feel as though it were true. Last time hadn’t been a choice and this time around she was willingly doing so.

He looked to her, eyes saddened. “...I am unable to provide an answer.”

The duck groaned. “I know, I know, not until you...I don’t really know where Donald disappeared to, but I think you should talk to him. He may be upset at me, but he couldn’t ever be upset at you.”

“I am...” His eyes betrayed the fear he held, though he didn’t utter the word. “...I believe I would like to postpone such an action.”

“Um, ok, but like for how long? I wanted to...” Della paused, realizing it made it sound as though she didn’t care about his feelings in the least. “I’m sorry, this is more about you, and I’m just thinking about me. We can wait, but the longer you put this off, the more you have to deal with this. Plus, I’m pretty sure Hera is wanting us to give her an answer like really soon.”

He nodded. “On the morrow, perhaps.”

Della glanced out the window, finding the late afternoon light to be reflecting off of the pool’s surface. She squinted past the glare and to the mansion. She knew that once she would leave, everything would continue on without her. Just as it had the first time around. Just as it would for anyone. She clenched her jaw, body tense as she realized that even her sons would move on. They had the first time around. When she spoke, it sounded as though she were attempting to convince herself. “They were ok on their own the first time around, so they’ll be ok again without me.”

“...’hateful to me as are the Gates of Hades, is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, utters another’.” Storkules whispered aloud to her, staring down at the pages underneath his hands.

Della looked up at his words, thinking about what he had said to her. After a moment of her deciphering the poem, her eyes widened. “That is what believe though! They will be totally fine without me!”

His laid his hand upon her forearm now. “Friend Della, truths always lye upon yourself the finest.” 

The duck stared at his hand, before dropping her forehead to the table with a groan. “Dammit! I didn’t...why is this so hard? I want...I want to be able to live my best life, you know? I want...I want my family to be happy. But, what I want is different than what they want...I don’t know how to fix how I feel. If I stay here, I’ll just...”

Della pounded a fist against the table, the novel’s pages jolting as she did so. Storkules closed the book gently and spoke with an air of uncertainty. “I am...unable to properly address your conflict.”

“I know, I know, it’s just your stupid curse that’s making it really hard to say anything in retaliation!”

There was a brief pause of silence, before...” What do you desire?”

Della rolled her head to the side to see his face. “I mean, I really want them to be happy, but I can’t-“

“What do you desire, Della?” He was staring at her expectantly, as though it were the easiest question in the world. And it should have been, but here she was staring at him without an answer in sight. “You enunciate you desire to ‘live your best life’ and to achieve the disposition of ‘happiness’.”

“I mean yeah, everyone just wants to be happy. It’s impossible for me to in this situation though. I either have to sacrifice my own happiness or just...”

“You aspire for your family to be appeased, in omission to your own fulfillment...just as I have throughout my existence.” He appeared nearly pained by confessing this.

Della slowly lifted her head, realizing what he was saying in that moment to her. She had been denying herself the happiness she deserve, for the sake of her family. In fact, she had been doing so since she had returned from the moon. It took a toll on her though, as as those expectations have over the years. Just as Storkules had been denying himself for years. “You’re...right. If they really care about me then they’ll come around. Uncle Scrooge, Huey, and Louie are giving me their blessing to do this already. And if Donald and Dewey truly care, they’ll respect my decision!”

Storkules stood abruptly, causing the kitchen table to immediately tumble over onto it’s side with an echoing slamming noise. Della flinched at the noise and the stork bellowed with excitement. “I desire to speak to my Donald promptly!”

“Ummmm, he was kinda pissed off last time I saw him, so I think we should stick with the original plan of talking to Donald tomorrow. And I’m not really sure where he disappeared off to anyways.”

The demigod didn’t seemed deterred in the least. “On morrow we shall articulate our quest to him!”

“Right, that’s cool and all, but I’m pretty sure Donald is gonna be more mad if you don’t pick up his table. And I think you broke his book? The binding is all coming out.”

She had pointed at the discarded book lying upon the floor, the binding of the ancient novel unraveled across the floor. Storkules gasped dramatically, snatching it up, only for the front cover to fall off to the floor. “By the Gods!”

“Well, that sucks,” She intoned was she stood to fetch the opposite half. Storkules appeared crestfallen by what he had done. “It doesn’t look like we can do much. I don’t really know how to fix this.”

“My Donald will be furious!” The demigod cried out, snatching the front cover from her, and cradling the pieces to his chest.

“It’s not really a big deal. Donald hasn’t even like slept in here a single night and hasn’t touched a thing. I’m starting to think he doesn’t really care about his old stuff anymore, which is good considering Louie sold a bunch of his stuff a few months ago.”

“But-but-“ Della gently reaches up to take the pieces and stared at them. One of the pages fluttered open, revealing it’s contents to her eyes. ‘No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny’. She tried not to focus too hard on the words she had coincidently laid her eyes upon. Her friend sighed sadly, before nodding in agreement. “Aye, perhaps this was but a mere loss for my Donald.”

“I can think of worse things to lose...” She tried not to feel guilty about what her leaving could possibly do to Donald in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I would have another update sooner than you all thought!
> 
> This chapter once again features gracious amounts of Greek lore, specifically the epic poem The Iliad by Homer. This was a required read for me in high school a number of years ago. For those that have never actually read it, I can give a brief summary. The story features the conflict between the Achaians and Trojans nine years into the Trojan War. The Achaian’s King’s sister in law, Helen is abducted by the Trojans, and the conflict stems from that. Achilles, the mightiest warrior of Achaians requests help from Zeus, who complies. Both the quote from Storkules and the one Della saw in the broken book are directly from the story.
> 
> As always, kudos and love are overwhelmingly appreciated! And, please stay safe and prevent the spread of disease in these upcoming weeks. It doesn’t do well to panic in these times, when just by keeping ourselves healthy, and our hands clean can help prevent this from happening to those that cannot afford their immune system to be compromised.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of vomit after Hera appears. Warnings as well for a verbally distressing scene starting with “Why are you behaving the way you have been lately?” and ending with “No, you weren’t. We’re going to talk right now!”

“Look, I know you’re scared, but you need to pull yourself together and actually talk to him!” Della hissed at her friend, face a picture of frustration.

“Aye, I must speak do so...yet I cannot envision in the near future that he does not require my presence.” Storkules lamented and wrapped his arms around himself to provide a meager amount of comfort.

“Well, you’re not going to know how he reacts, unless you actually say something to him! And I’m sorry Launchpad still hasn’t gotten back to me yet, but we have to address this head on right now.” She reached out for the door handle, not bothering to knock as a warning.

“Friend Della, I beseech thee to wait a moment!“

“For what?!” She was attempting to keep her voice low, so Donald wouldn’t hear them arguing, but she was beginning to wonder how long the demigod was planning on holding off. “We need to talk to Donald about making you know he doesn’t need you sometime this millennium and you’re not making it easy!”

The duck regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, as his face seemed to crumble in on itself due to her careless words. She hadn’t meant that his presence was useless to Donald in the least, but she could see how they could be warped that way. She rubbed her hand across her bill and attempted to alter the meaning. “Look, I meant that Donald doesn’t need your help at this time, so you should focus on yourself. I know the curse is making it hard for you to see that, but I promise you once he says that everything will become clearer for you.”

He appeared uncomfortable, squirming as her hand hovered over the door knob. “I possess uncertainty over the truth of your belief. However, I shan’t turn a cheek from this situation a moment longer.”

Despite the words, she could tell from his eyes how anxious he was. Della had comforted him about this situation several times and she was growing weary of doing so by this point. With a nod at his words, she finally twisted the handle. She hesitated for only a moment, deciding to rap her knuckles on the door as a warning to Donald this time, before swinging it open. She was startled immediately to see Dewey sitting at the table by the door. “Dewey?”

The 13-year-startled, causing him to fumble with the phone in his hand, dropping it with a thud to the carpet bellow. His eyes darted down to it, before flicking back up to her. She briefly saw anger flash in his eyes. Dewey bent over to pick his phone back up and nodded at Storkules over her shoulder when he realized he was there. The cruel expression melted from his face as he smiled. “Hi, Storkules! I haven’t talked to you for a few days. How are you liking Uncle Donald’s houseboat?”

“I appreciate your uncle providing myself shelter in my time of need! Though it may be befouled, I have taken to reviving it to an immaculate state.” He nearly rambled this in an entire breath of air, causing Dewey to appear concerned.

“Uhhh, cool, I’m pretty sure Uncle Donald would like someone taking care of it. Uh, are you alright though? You seem sorta tense?”

Storkules had opened his mouth to reply, likely spouting his automatic saying that Della despised. Instead, she cut in. “He’s fine, Dewey. Is Donald around? I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Well, I wasn’t going back to my room,” His voice was biting with the under current of barely concealed irritation. He hadn’t even bothered to look at her while speaking, eyes returning to his phone. “He’s in the shower though.”

Della noticed that the bathroom door was closed, steam curling out from the crack at the bottom of it. She distantly heard the noise of running water, the drain gurgling at a steady pace. She stepped closer to the other door, wondering if perhaps she should knock. Dewey had asked Storkules once more if he was alright and she had to bite back a groan when he replied that he was “content”. It was obvious he hadn’t been, considering how much he had gone through lately. Della knocked on the bathroom door, her voice ringing out. “Donald? It’s Della. Me and Storkules wanted to talk to you.”

The running water immediately ceased at the end of her sentence. There wasn’t a response, but she heard the shower curtain open. She decided not to call out yet another time, but was annoyed he hadn’t spoken a word in return. She turned back around to see that Storkules had sat in the chair next to Dewey, speaking in low tones about an adventure he had partaken in a few years ago. Her son appeared to be hanging on his every word and seemed to be excited. She wished he would look at her like he once had before. 

The door suddenly swung open, steam billowing out in clouds around her head. Her brother hobbled out on crutches, feathers fluffy from drying them off vigorously with a towel. She had yet to see Donald in his sailor attire since he had changed his torn up one from the island. This time he wore a simple dark blue shirt. His face had gone perfectly blank, causing her to feel that all familiar hurt. “What do you want?”

“It’s more what Storkules wants.” She answered honestly. Though those eyes of ice bored into her own, she wouldn’t allow her brother to see her feel the hurt she did.

“Huh?” Donald frowned at Storkules and the demigod snapped his bill shut half-way through his story. He appeared frozen in fear. The duck approached the table, staring at his friend curiously. “What did you need?”

Storkules hadn’t said a word, though his bill had opened back up. A squeak had erupted from his throat instead. Dewey stared at him as though he lost his mind, holding back a nervous laugh that had swelled in his stomach. Even the 13-year-old could tell something was wrong and it was frightening him. Donald’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shone with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, for the love of-!” Della strode over, grabbing the back of his chair. She made eye contact with Donald as she spoke loudly. “Storkules, just wanted to know something, didn’t you?”

“I-“ Storkules’ voice had actually broken off and Della couldn’t believe that the demigod had actually lost his voice in that moment. Even Donald and Dewey appeared surprised by this. Storkules cleared his throat and spoke once more. “M-My Donald, I must question...I desired to...are you in...?”

“Are you asking Uncle Donald on a date, dude?” Dewey asked, eyes wide.

Storkules flushed at the words, eyes darting away as he knew Donald didn’t share a similar sentiment. Della gripped the chair tighter than ever, knowing how Donald actually felt only set him more on edge. Donald appeared uncomfortable briefly, before shaking his head at his nephew. “I don’t think so, Dewey.”

Dewey was visibly disappointed and Della felt like slamming her head into a wall. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how long her son had thought of Donald and the demigod being a couple. Hurt briefly appeared on Storkules’ face, before he managed to finally blurt out the words she wanted him to say in a moment of bravery. “Doyoupossesrequirementformypresence?”

“Do I what?” Donald was bewildered and Storkules flushed darker at his confused gaze. His nephew’s eyes had widened further, being able to understand every word he had sped through however.

“Oh my god!” Della practically screamed, vibrating his chair due to her exasperation.

“Stop that!” Donald scolded her and she only glared at him in return. She halted the shaking with a roll of her eyes though. He didn’t pay her mind any further, instead deciding to prompt his friend. “Can you say that again? I didn’t hear any of that.”

Storkules was visibly incapable of repeating the sentence, as he had opened and closed his bill several more times. Della jerked away from the chair, shaking her head. She was about ready to just ask Donald herself. The sound of Dewey asking the question, caused her to turn back around. “I think he asked if you...needed him around, Uncle Donald?”

“If I need you around?” Donald echoed back slowly, as an embarrassed demigod nodded frantically in confirmation. Della felt her palms going clammy, sweat intermingling with her feathers as she waited for the answer. “If you mean like right now, not really? I was just taking a shower and don’t need help with anything.”

Della walked over to the nearest wall, intent on smashing her forehead into it in frustration. She paused when she heard Storkules finally speak clearly. “M-My Donald, I...do you require my assistance...e-emotionally?”

Donald’s face went perfectly blank at the words, before his attention turned to Della. “Why are you making Storkules ask about my emotional state?”

“I’m not making him do anything!” She groaned in response to her twin. “Why the hell do you think I’m behind this?”

“Maybe because you dragged him in here, when it’s clear he’s uncomfortable! Dammit Della, can you just leave me alone!” Donald’s calm facade had hardly lasted a few seconds.

Dewey groaned at the arguing, before he noticed Storkules appearing increasingly more uncomfortable as the seconds passed by. The 13-year-old reached out across the table to grab at his forearm. Despite the yelling in the background, he was able to speak loud enough for the demigod to hear. “It’s not your fault they’re fighting at all. They always do this, doesn’t matter about what.”

Storkules didn’t reply, though his discomfort clearly increased. Dewey could feel the sweat pooling under his fingers, the heat oozing into his palm. His natural glow seemed to be waning. “Hey, are you ok, dude? You look really nervous. And you feel really...hot?”

Storkules pulled his arm away and Dewey didn’t stop him. He began to pale, sweat rolling down his face in rivets as though he were finished with a gym visit. Dewey felt alarmed by this point, about ready to tell Uncle Donald and Della to stop fighting. The younger duck genuinely believed he was about to lose consciousness. Storkules suddenly rose up fast enough to knock back the chair he had sat in. “I-I feel ensnared by chains Aphrodite has imposed upon my form to you!”

Donald and Della had immediately ceased all speech at the explosive words he had released. The demigod was panting, wobbling slightly to his right. Dewey in the seat beside him, reached out a hand to press against his waist. Storkules reached out his left hand to steady himself with the table, allowing Dewey to take charge of his other side. Della was across the room instantly, hand providing support on his left side. “Are you alright?”

“I-I...desire to be i-isolated from these b-bonds, ” He sounded chocked, as though he couldn’t breathe properly as he answered her. He gulped a few times, regaining his breath, before shaking his head slowly. “A haze...cloaks laboriously across my mind...”

“I think you should sit down, right now,” Della’s voice commanded him. Dewey had repositioned the fallen chair behind the demigod. He fell heavily into it, the chair creaking from the weight dropped into it. Della held his hand and furrowed her eyebrows. “How were you able to say that? I thought you wouldn’t be able to say something like that to him because of the curse.”

“I-I am...I-I feel...”

Della frowned as he suddenly went blank faced. She sighed a moment later, shaking her head in return. She squeezed his hand gently and then released it. Dewey looked terrified, voice squeaky. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with him? Is he ok?”

“He’s going to be fine. He’s just resetting right now.” Della explained to her son, hand resting on his shoulder.

Donald was suddenly beside her, eyes staring intently at her hand as he spoke. “What do you mean resetting? He looked like he was about to pass out.”

Della felt uncomfortable by the staring, so she pulled her hand away. “When he freezes up like that, usually the curse is starting the interaction over. I don’t really know how he could tell you that he didn’t want to be here, but he looked like he pushed himself too far or something. He looks really sweaty.”

Donald looked disturbed, face scrunched up. “When’s he going to be done resetting?”

“Usually takes a few seconds. He’s probably about to-“

“-feel better now,” Storkules blinked slowly. He noticed the terrified faces of Donald and Dewey peering at him from behind Della. She was clearly relived, offering him a placating smile. He bent over at the waist, hands fisted on his thighs “I have concerned you all.”

“Yeah, but you’re ok now,” Della reassured him, before turning to her uneasy twin. “Donald has an answer for your question though, don’t you?”

Donald scowled at her and she beamed in return, though her eyes were challenging him to argue further. He looked to the demigod, finding him to looking longingly at him. The sailor had to hold back the flinch at the yearning Storkules didn’t bother to hide in the least. He cleared his throat, sitting down in the chair next to his friend. “Dewey, can you wait outside for me to be done talking to Storkules?”

The 13-year-old looked like he wanted to protest against this, though he finally nodded his head when Donald gave him a parental look. “Yes, Uncle Donald.”

He left the room as Donald glowered at his twin. She bristled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere Donald.”

“Della, you need not be dismayed for my emotional welfare.” The stork informed Della nonchalantly, strangely all traces of anxiety vanished.

Donald’s eyebrows shot up, startled by his causal addressment to his sister. The demigod never referred to someone without a title to his knowledge. She was definitely hesitant, especially after all that had happened during this interaction. What had happened to his fear of speaking to Donald? “Are you sure, dude?”

“Aye. I was uncertain how to approach my Donald, though now that I have finalized this footstep, I am confident I am adept in speaking to him now.” 

She wasn’t convinced in the least. “Dude, you were literally on the edge of having a panic attack every time I brought this up to you.” 

“Della, though your loyalty is admirable, I assure you all is satisfactory,” She stared at his eyes, finding though their was an undercurrent of apprehension, he also was comfortable in Donald’s presence. She nodded slowly at him and begun to retreat from the room. Della hesitated for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. Finally, she left the room, allowing the pair of friends to be alone. 

There was a silence, before Donald decided to address the issue that lingered most in his mind. “You didn’t give her a title.”

“Della insisted and I shan’t betray my oath.”

He felt bitter in that moment, thinking back on all the years he had asked of the same thing. He couldn’t help the bitter tone that revealed itself when he replied. “I’ve also insisted a lot in the past.”

The demigod blushed, red dark on his cheeks. “My Donald, as you must have interpreted you are not as your sister.”

The sailor, scowled, staring straight down at the carpet. A moment later a hand rested hesitantly upon his thigh. He couldn’t hold back the flinch this time at the touch and the hand was pulled away instantly. “I offer apologies for the candidness presented...however, I...I am perplexed I must admit.”

“About what?”

“Your quality of abhorrent over your individuality,” Donald held his breath, unable to confirm his hate for himself. He thought he had hid it well from everyone, including his family, yet here he was having his secret stripped open. The words spoken next were raw, open with affection. “Aphrodite’s beauty and worth pales in comparison to that of your own.”

Donald gasped loudly, jerking shrinking back into chair from Storkules in visible fear. The demigod was frozen in place, eyes stricken at the terror. The sailor’s voice was shaking as cried out at him fiercely. “Y-You can’t say that!”

“...Though Aphrodite shall curse my form for such language, I am positive in my beliefs.” He rasped weakly, unable to stomach the petrified expression, though he couldn’t lie.

The duck covered his face with his hands, breathing agitatedly. “J-Just shut up! I-I can’t stand you saying anything else!”

Donald was struggling to steady his breath, hoping not to have a complete meltdown over the words. The demigod knew of all people that saying such things could put a target on either of their backs, as the Gods deposed comparison. Storkules sounded as though he were crying by that pointed and Donald couldn’t look up for the life of him. He didn’t expect for his request of silence to be ignored. “D-Do you posses requirement for my presence?”

He didn’t reply to the question and begun to feel tears pooling in his eyes. He wasn’t certain if the Goddess of Love would appear suddenly in the room and place a curse on either of them and he could feel his heart pounding as the minutes passed by. However, after awhile it became apparent that they weren’t. He finally looked up from his hands, eyes completely dry finally. Thick tears rolled down Storkules’ face, eyes red from the long minutes of sobbing that consumed him. Donald could only feel exhaustion consuming him. “No. I don’t need you here for me and I...I don’t think I ever will.”

There seemed to a breath of fresh air in the room, the smell of mint lingering lightly in his nostrils. Donald wasn’t completely certain as to the meaning, but he guessed that it was likely the curse changing the demigod’s viewpoint of himself. The stork inhaled the scent and nodded at Donald’s truthful response. Though Storkules continued to cry, he managed to produce a feeble smile. “I-I understand...I-I must take leave...”

Donald was left alone, feeling as though he didn’t deserve anything positive life had granted him.  
*

Della bit at her fingernails, attempting to remain calm, as she thought about the pair alone in Donald’s room. Though she knew Donald would never mean to, she was worried he would inadvertently crush Storkules’ heart. She glanced down at her son to distract herself and noticed him scrolling through a page full of memes on Tweeter. She pulled her fingers from her bill. “Are you doing alright, Dewey?”

“Yep.”

She felt herself sweat when he didn’t bother to even glance up at her. It appeared he was still holding a grudge against her decision. “Where have you been hanging out the since last night? Your brothers said you didn’t come back to your room.”

“With Uncle Donald.”

Della frowned and could feel irritation creeping into her tone. “We talked about at least telling us where you’re heading, Dewey. You need to at least tell me next time.”

“Uh-huh.”

She had the impression that didn’t care in the least about causing her worry. “Dewey, look at me.”

He glanced up, eyebrow raised as though he barely cared about the authority had a parent she had over him. She could feel her blood pumping in agitation at the thought, but she pushed down her temper. “You heard me, didn’t you? You really worried us just disappearing like you did.”

“I heard you, but I really don’t give a-“ Her temper flared before he could finish his sentence, knowing he was about to curse her out. She reached out to grab his shoulder, grip tight and opened her mouth to admonish his behavior. He flinched, face scrunched up in what appeared to be pain. “Ow! Let go!”

“Why are you behaving the way you have been lately! You’re acting worse than ever and I don’t understand why! You used to be so good and now you’re acting like a bad kid!” She didn’t release her grip in the least, as it seemed to be the only thing to grab his attention at this point.

“I’m just reacting to you deciding to abandon us all!” He snapped back, hand attempting to push her own away.

“Oh, did Donald say that to you? Is that why you’re thinking that now? I know Donald is mad at me too, but doesn’t mean he should be putting all this nonsense in your head!”

“Let go! You’re hurting my arm!” Dewey cried, face beginning to crumble.

“I know those are crocodile tears, Dewey. I’m not even holding onto you that tight. You do that all the time with me and usually it’s cute, but right now it’s not. What do I have to do to get through to you? You don’t listen to a word I say. Tell me what I have to do, since what I’m saying doesn’t seem to have an impact.” She needed to be stern and not show weakness at the false tears in his eyes.

“Nothing will!” He spit at her, face beginning to redden with anger that matched his uncle’s. The tears were thick down his cheeks, pulling away as hard as he could. “You’re not my mother, so I couldn’t give less of a shit!”

Della was so stunned by the words that she immediately released her grip. Dewey stumbled back from the force he was using to escape and fell over onto his bottom. Her eyes filled with tears, realizing how true the words were to him in that moment. “You really don’t see me as your mother anymore? After everything I’ve done for you?”

The door cracked open and Della turned to see Storkules exit the room. He shut the door gently and turned to the pair. Tears were in his eyes, though he less exhausted than before. His face dropped when he saw Dewey laying across the ground, with Della looking as though she had been slapped. “Are you content, Young Dewford?”

Dewey covered his arm with one of his hands, staring at the ground as he stood up. “I’m fine, I was just leaving.”

“No, you weren’t. We’re going to talk right now!” She couldn’t believe he didn’t want her as a mother anymore.

“Just leave me alone! I don’t want to be around you anymore!” Dewey cried out in retaliation, ripping back open the door to Donald’s room. 

“Dewey, wait!” She reached for the door, twisting the door handle to find it locked. She growled, jiggling it as hard she could. “Dewey! Come back out! Dammit! Donald, can you unlock the door for me?!”

“Go away! Just leave like you were planning on doing in the first place!” Dewey screamed from the other side, the sound of his fist pounding on the door in return.

“Fine then! I’m leaving today, just like you want, since it’s apparent nobody wants me in this damn place!” She pivoted around, stalking down the hallway to her room infuriately.

“Della!” Storkules was sprinting after her with a fearful voice. “Della, I beseech thee to halt! You must produce amends with your family before we depart on our quest!”

The duck continued down the hall, heat rising under her collar. “I’m leaving, Storkules, and you can’t say anything to stop me!”

She was nearly to her room, when the demigod caught her, grasping onto her shoulder. “Della, regret will plague-“

“It’s easier this way! I’ll just disappear the way I did the first time around, so there doesn’t have to be goodbyes, especially for a family that couldn’t care in the least for me!” Della shrugged his shoulder away, violently swinging open her bedroom door. It smacked into the wall and bounced back into Storkules’ chest as she headed to her dresser.

He pushed the door aside, hardly dazed by it. “What of Friend Scrooge and of your children?”

She had froze at the words, appearing conflicted. She pulled open her drawers, pulling out a few sets of clothes to bring on the quest with her. “I was already planning on saying bye to Huey and Louie of course, but I don’t even know where Uncle Scrooge is right now. I didn’t see him anywhere when I woke up. We don’t have time now, we just need to go.”

“You would willingly leave your uncle without a proper parting, when you are uncertain you will be alive long enough for him to see your victorious return?” 

She was shoving her shorts and socks into the backpack she had tore off of the top of the dresser. The words caused her to pause once more, face pained and distant. “...it wouldn’t be the first time. Last time they all thought I was dead.”

Storkules whispered to her, voice strained. “You have a choice in the matter this time.”

Della inhaled deeply, before nodding to herself. “Ok, ok, I’ll say goodbye to the kids first and then I’ll trying calling Uncle Scrooge to see if I can find him.”

“Have you assumed my quest, Della Duck?” Della yelped at the question, throwing an elbow out to slam into whoever was standing behind her. She found herself thrust forward by an invisible push of air, nearly face planting before catching herself with her hands. Storkules was standing stalk still in front of her she realized, face staring at his sandals. Her heart was pounding, breathing shakily at the anxiety that had temporarily frozen her.

Della had an inkling who was behind her and it was confirmed when the demigod bowed in front of the duck’s face. “My Queen.”

Della pushed herself around onto her bottom to gaze up at the Goddess towering over the pair, eyes an icy cruel gaze, and halo of glowing light nearly blinding her mortal eyes. “You scared the absolute sh-“

“You should consider yourself blessed that Tyche is captivated by you, and that I have intrigue about your fate, as I typically do not repeat inquiries willingly. Do you assume the quest I have granted you?” 

“Um, yeah, we did a few minutes ago. What-?”

“You shall impart forthwith.”  
Hera raised an elegant finger at Della, directly in between her eyes. 

Della realized instantly what the Goddess was planning and could feel her throat dry up at the thought. Storkules’ face jerked up in surprise. He raised a hand in protest, voice high pitched. “My Queen, perhaps-“

Everything went black without a warning. Though the duck couldn’t see anything happening, she felt disoriented in the sense of falling from a great height. The smell of pomegranates and apples assaulted her senses, pushing her to the point of nausea. Her stomach was in her throat, the speed increasing, and colors whirled around her. Everything ceased movement, her face lying on a smooth rock. She suddenly heaved, feeling as though her vision was continuing to spin. A comforting large hand was on her back and she flinched, before realizing it was Storkules. “Are you well, Della?”

The duck could feel the sick on her lips and had a glimpse of it in the grass beside her. She nearly heaved again, before was turning her face away from her sick, groaning. “Ugh, w-what the hell did Hera do to us?”

Storkules appeared grim. “I’m afraid she has transported us to a realm I am unfamiliar with.”

Della gazed around, noting the thick tree groves surrounding them, twilight settling into the air as the last light of the daylight disappeared over the horizon. “What? Why would she do that?”

“You accepted the quest.” He was grimacing at her confused expression, pity plain in his eyes.

“I mean yeah, but I was still packing so I don’t understand...” Della’s eyes widened as she realized that accepting the quest meant that she was immediately sent forth on it. “Oh my god...oh my god...Huey and Louie...and Uncle Scrooge, I never even said goodbye to them!”

Della gagged again, feeling sick as she realized she once again left with a single word to them. “W-We need to go back now!”

Storkules was uneasy at the prospect. “Friend Della, as we have begun the quest, we have to continue to completion. To reject a Goddess’ quest would be punishable by Hades’ wrath-“

“I don’t care! Oh my god, Uncle Scrooge is going to think I’m dead again!” She could feel herself hyperventilating, panic consuming her whole. She hadn’t felt this out of sorts since the first time she had been in public after years being stuck on the moon. “Oh my god, I didn’t tell anyone where we were going!”

Storkules could only observe her descent into panic, unable to quell her worries as night approached expeditiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did that.
> 
> This past week of social distancing has been terrible, but it at least has provided me plenty of time to Skype with friends and learn new hobbies! I miss the sunshine and my job at the moment, but I have plenty of time to collect myself before returning to real life hopefully by April. For those that are struggling to stay inside, take this time to call loved ones, learn something new, perfect as skill you already have, or even just take time to relax. The choices are endless! Just make sure to stay safe in these times please.
> 
> As far of Greek mythology, I only have to note that Tyche is the Goddess of luck and fortune. Thank you all for giving kudos and love to this story. I’ll update either later this week or the next!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for description of an injury and of blood starting in the scene of the forest.

Scrooge McDuck had been exhausted by the time he returned home, and annoyed that he had to resort to having Bentina drive him back due to the fact Launchpad McQuack had been mysteriously radio silent for over a day now. 

Said duck had taken the limousine back to the usual garage, informing him that she would double check to see if the pilot had returned to his old home for whatever reason. He had a feeling however that he wouldn’t be there. The billionaire had called Launchpad for what was at least the fourth time now, beginning to grow nervous about the mysterious lack of communication. By this point he typically would have at least shot out a text to inform him about a delay in returning. 

“Launchpad, I’m beginning to wonder if you and that superhero of your’s are in deep trouble. I’m about ready to head out myself to St. Canard if you don’t at least leave me a message. I’ve never heard you be silent for so long. Call me back the moment you hear this,” He hesitated for a moment, before admitting. “You’re beginning to worry me.”

Scrooge has decided to head up the stairs to check on Donald in the meantime, after being urged by his therapist’s after the morning’s session he had gone to. He rapped his knuckles on the door, before attempting to twist the locked handle. “Why is-?”

“I thought I said go away!” He heard Dewey scream from the opposite side of the door.

“What in the-?! Dewey, what are you going on about in there? Is Donald with you?” Scrooge was confused about the behavior, uncertain what had set off the 13-year-old this time.

There wasn’t an answer, though after a few seconds the door was cracked open, Donald’s face barely peering out. “What do you want, Uncle Scrooge?”

“Erm, I was wondering how you were doing...I know you were upset about my acceptance of Della’s decision, but I have to admit I’m a little more curious now about why Dewey is screaming at me through a locked door?”

Donald’s eyes were hard at the question, a look in them he would only see when it involved the children. His face was reddening, though he didn’t snap. He disappeared from the door and he heard the sound of crutches retreating. Scrooge thought it to be a invitation to enter, and pushed open the door to reveal Dewey curled up on Donald’s bed, pillow lying over his head. “Lad? Are you alright?”

“Go away, Uncle Scrooge.” Dewey mumbled, a hand tightened over the pillow upon his head.

The billionaire raised an eyebrow and turned to his nephew. “Donald, have you asked the lad what his problem is this time around?”

Donald rolled his eyes. “No, of course not; I’ve just sat here twiddling my thumbs the past half hour. What do you think, Uncle Scrooge?”

Scrooge glared at him. “No need to be rude, laddie, I was just asking.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, because she’s just leaving us!” Dewey shouted into the bed, curling up further.

“Well, she’s chosen to do so, and keeping her here would be foolish to attempt. Trust me, I’ve tried more than my fair share in the past.”

“Oh, really now?” The sailor was skeptical to hear this confession, not ever have heard his uncle attempt to stop Della Duck from doing anything she wanted to do.

“Not that it’s my busy to tell you the details, but Della became more untamable when you left mysteriously, like you did after coming home from the Navy.”

“She’s always been untamable! It’s nothing new!” Donald protested, rolling his eyes once more.

“You wouldn’t understand how often I had to go hunt her down after she would disappear days on end. She would go off risking her life in a way I’ve never seen before and didn’t stop for literally the two years you were gone!” He knew Donald hadn’t understood Della’s behavior, but he was convinced that she had gone off the deep end during that time.

“Stop it! Just stop arguing with each other!” Dewey had tore the pillow off of his face, sitting up with tears streaming down his face. “I can’t take you guys screaming at each other all the time!”

Scrooge realized he was being chastised for what was definitely true and felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Despite the fact Donald wanted to try again, he had slipped back into old habits with his nephew. He opened his bill to confess as much, when suddenly Donald’s hand shot out to grab hold of Dewey’s wrist. “What the hell is this?!”

Dewey appeared panicked briefly, before attempting to tug his arm away. Scrooge’s eyes widened as he noticed the huge darkened bruise sticking out underneath his feathers. “Where in dismal downs did you get that?”

“Let go of me!” Donald released his wrist at the nervous cry. Dewey cradled his arm to his chest, crying harder than before.

Donald inhaled deeply, pained expression etching itself onto his face. Scrooge knew first hand how it felt to have anyone in your family in pain. He hated when Della and Donald were hurt anytime throughout their lives. Donald’s voice was soft when he finally asked what had happened. “Dewey, did...did Della do this to you?”

“I-I just...it was an accident, I know she didn’t mean to...but, it just makes me more mad than ever that she wouldn’t let go.” The billionaire sat down next to the 13-year-old and reached out to his grand-nephew to engulf him in a comforting hug that he willingly accepted.

Donald had stood, face a perfectly blank mask. He begun to head to the door, the sound of the crutches a steady rhythm. “Donald, where are you heading off to?”

Dewey had his face buried in his hands, too consumed by his crying to notice the dark look his uncle gave Scrooge. The billionaire knew immediately where he was planning on heading, scarcely believing that Donald could make such a face in relation to Della. The billionaire was across the room in an instant, blocking the door. “Now hold on just a minute there, lad! You can’t just go barging in on her, screaming your head off. Besides, I’m fairly certain that she hadn’t meant to bruise-“

“She did though, dammit! And now you’re defending her for hurting Dewey!” Donald exploded, bristling as he swung a wing at him. “Now get out of the way!”

“Stop! Just stop it! She didn’t mean to give me a bruise and I just want you guys to stop screaming, please!” 

Donald stilled at the words, an air of doubtfulness hovering over him. “Dewey, even if she didn’t mean to, doesn’t mean that it was ok...has she...has she done this before?”

Dewey’s bill wobbled and he didn’t answer. Scrooge held his breath, for it was answer in itself. He could scarcely believe it, but Dewey wasn’t known to lie about matters as serious as that. Donald’s face had begun to redden and he huffed steadily as though he were overflowing with anger. 

“Now Donald, I’ll go speak to her! You stay here with Dewey.” Scrooge thrust his cane into the ground, commanding authority.

“You can’t just stop me from-!”

“Uncle Donald, don’t!” Dewey was wrapping his arms around his waist from behind and buried his face into his shirt.

“Lad, please, can’t you see your nephew needs you at the moment?” Scrooge knew he didn’t need to say that, as when it came to matters of the kids, Donald couldn’t resist. He needed to make sure the sailor’s anger wasn’t eclipsing all else in the moment though.  
Donald squeezed his eyes shut, regular hue returning to his face. When he opened them, the billionaire could see the pain of holding back there, but finally nodded. 

Scrooge nodded at him in return, before leaving the room to head to Della’s. He arrived at the open door, calling in to her. “Della, I need to speak to you-“

He paused, noticing the dresser drawers sitting open, clothes sloppily draped over the edge of a few of them, and a few lying on the ground near a backpack. He raised an eyebrow in confusion and called out to her once more as he looked about the room. He knocked upon the bathroom door and popped it open to see that it was empty. Scrooge hummed to himself, before heading down to the boys’ room check there.

The billionaire peeked in to see Louie taking a nap, with his phone lying beside his head. Huey wasn’t seen at all, which wasn’t unusual in itself. He retreated from the room, finally hearing the voice of Webby and Huey speaking to one another in hushed tones from her room nearby. He approached to hear them better. “-and I don’t know...I thought I liked him, but it’s been kinda weird since we kiss-“

“-please don’t utter that word, Webby,” Huey sounded disgusted, then he expressed sympathies a moment later. “I don’t think it’s you though, he’s just been taking the whole subject of Mom’s leaving terribly.”

“I think it was even before that though. Didn’t you guys say you all had that huge fight at the therapist’s?”

“...yes...Mom and Uncle Scrooge were definitely in the wrong and it made me mad as well, but I thought they all made up...I suppose they didn’t though...Webby? Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah, of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

His voice sounded timid and what he said next crushed Scrooge’s spirits. “...I’m not alright with Mom leaving...it really hurts to know she’s leaving like she doesn’t even...care about us.”

“...I’m sorry...I wish I could say I understand, but it’s always just been me and Granny. I don’t know what it feels like to have a Mom or Dad leave me behind.” Scrooge backed away slowly, hand covering his bill to hold back the choked sound he was about to make, thinking back on his therapy session earlier.  
*

“...would you like me to start this session, Scrooge? You haven’t said a word since you entered.” The doctor asked, after a silence of about five minutes. He clocked his pen open and close a few times, clicking his tongue.

Scrooge stared at his hands curled around his cane, finding comfort in the weight of it. “...I’m not certain I’m able to express what I need to.”

“Is it about Donald again? I thought your relationship with him reached a turning point.”

He breathed out deeply and knew he couldn’t hold off the discussion any further. “...no, it’s about...it’s about Della.”

“What happened?” Scrooge gulped multiple times, feeling a tight knot swelling in his throat when he attempted to breach the subject. “Do you need me to walk you through the breathing techniques?”

“No...I...she’s decided...she’s decided to leave,” The billionaire could feel the tears swelling in his eyes. He laid his cane against his seat, before removing his glasses. He pitched at his tear ducts to stop the flow. “She’s decided to go on a quest that could...could take...y-years.”

“Scrooge, you don’t have to hold back your sadness. You can allow your tears to come,” The dam broke at the words and suddenly he was choking on his sobs. After a few minutes, he could feel the tension retreating and the tears slowed. “I know this isn’t what you wanted her to do. I do have to ask why she decided to do this though?”

“I mean, she wants to help out a family friend...but...she said she felt...Della apparently felt suffocated in the life she lives in right now. She says she’s lost herself, but I thought everything was fine. She was suffering mentally still and I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Likely because she denied you the truth. While I cannot tell you exact details on what she has said to me in private sessions, I can say that hadn’t been much of a surprise for me.”

He could feel something akin to anger swell in his chest when he processed what was said. “You knew...you knew and you didn’t...you encouraged her to leave didn’t you?!” 

The therapist didn’t show much of a reaction, not allowing Scrooge to know if he truly did, but he could feel it in his bones that he had. Instead, the the therapist said the words that he already knew in his heart. “Scrooge, you cannot control her emotions or actions.”

The billionaire could feel the tears gushing anew, voice cracking as he confirmed that he already knew that. “...I know...I couldn’t even...I-I could never deny her anything in the world...I provided my blessing and she...s-she was the happiest I’ve seen her in months!”

A box of tissues was extended to him and he snatched them from the offering hand. When he had first cried openly in an session he had been so embarrassed that he denied that he was crying the entire time and rejected the tissues sent his way. However, after the number of times he had fallen apart in the office by this point, he had lost all shame about crying in front of the therapist. “But, you cannot stand the idea of her leaving you behind, again?”

“A-Aye...she’s...l-last time she didn’t have a choice and now this time...s-she does. I cannot stifle her though...I did so many times with D-Donald and I never should have. I’m just...not certain I can handle it though.”

“You feel as though you’re at age that you’re not strong enough to withstand major changes in your life. How many times have you done so though? You doubt your capabilities despite the fact that you know well enough that you actually can survive this. Haven’t you done harder things in your adventures over the years? I’ve heard many feats you’ve accomplished from your own mouth and from others over the years I’ve lived in Duckburg. Why do you doubt yourself yet again, even though you’ve done so much?”

“...matters involving my family have always been difficult...for years I thought my father hadn’t cared in the least about me. I pushed away my sister when she had married that Duck fella and I never had the chance to make amends with her...I struggled with understanding Donald for years...every relationship involving me with my family has been in shambles!”

“That was then though. How about now? You’ve discovered your father has always cared and you two have begrudgingly decided to make amends. Your answer your mother’s phone calls from their mansion now, instead of avoiding that all familiar phone number. You’re trying your hardest to heal Donald and Della has always gotten along well with you. Fethry sends you letters in bottles with updates of his research as he explores the seas with Mitzy. Gladstone shoots you a text once in a great moon to tell you what lucky thing happened to happened to him recently. Your grandnephews live with you and actually want to know more about you. Ms. Beakley, Webbigal, and even Launchpad are considered family to you, and you would be willing to help them in anyway they needed.”

As the relationships were listed, Scrooge felt warmth bloom in his heart. He could imagine all that he had gone through with each and every one of the family members he loved today. He had once been a cold and lonely duck, but now he was surrounded by those that cared about him unconditionally. Even if Della left, she would always return, and he had family members to lift him up in his time of need. “You’re right...I just...her and Donald, I’ve had them since they were wee ones. They’re my...children.”

“And they always will be to you. But, as you’ve known with Donald, all birds have to leave the nest eventually. It will never be forever though. It will hurt saying goodbye, but Della Duck will always return to you.”

Scrooge believed him.  
*

He turned from the doorway, aware that he shouldn’t have listened in, and decided to simply head back down the hall as he called Della on his phone clenched tightly in hand. As he approached her room once more, he distantly heard “Stand Out” by Powerline playing from inside. Scrooge raised an eyebrow following the noise back into Della’s messy room. He heard the final notes faded off as she intoned in his ear to leave a message after the beep. He hung up before she finished off and redialed. 

Scrooge heard the cell phone ringing from a spot underneath a pile of discarded clothing on the ground. He dug around, finally revealing it to be laying facedown on the ground. He hung up, staring at it with a sense of unease. He plucked it up to see a crack on the screen, as though the phone had suddenly been dropped in the worse possible angle, causing it to shatter. He held it in his hand and realized she had left behind her phone, which was unusual. Ever since she returned and learned more about touch screen phones, she had been catching up everything there could be relating to the internet. “Lass, where are you?”

When Scrooge had left the room a moment later, he could feel a prickle on the back of his neck, telling him someone was off to his left. He nearly thrust his cane into Donald’s face and halted at the last moment. His nephew flinched and then scowled at being threatened. “What’re you doing?!”

“Bless me kilts! You nearly gave me a heart attack! You know better than to sneak up on me like that. I was just searching for your sister, but I cannot find her anywhere for the life of me,” He frowned and presented the phone to the sailor. “Della never leaves behind her phone and I’m a bit worried.”

Donald’s eyebrows furrowed, then he shook his head. “She probably left...like she said she was going to. She stormed off when I didn’t unlock the door for her to come in to see Dewey, yelling about leaving, and nobody caring about her.”

“What? Why ever did you she do for?” He knew that Dewey hadn’t been the happiest so with Della lately, but it was strange that she would shout that at him.

Donald’s eyes flashed with defensiveness. “She decided to suddenly up and leave on the boys! Does it surprise you she would do that?”

“Actually, yes. I find it particularly odd that Della decided to shout at him that she’s leaving right away and thought nobody cares.”

“Well, she did! And where is she now? Della isn’t here, because she decided to leave without saying as so much of a goodbye to any of us!”

“And you don’t think it’s even the least bit strange that Storkules did the same thing?” He rolled his eyes at Donald’s hesitant expression. “Of course you didn’t, because as usual you’re blinded by that rage of yours!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk! You’re blinded by the fact that Della is your favorite!” He shot back furiously.

“It’s not a competition! I love the both of you equally and I know I haven’t shown you as well in the past, but haven’t I been showing you continually since you’ve returned? Didn’t I call you my-my-my son?!”

The duck grimaced at the words, turning his face away. “I...I don’t know if I can ever accept...you feeling that way.”

“Doesn’t change how I feel, lad. Just as it won’t change feeling that Della...is my daughter,” He choked at the end of his sentence. “I raised the two of you since you were wee ones, so of course I’m going to feel that way!”

“I know! I know, Uncle Scrooge! I understand, you’ve said it at least-“ Donald growled, reaching a hand up to pull at the feathers on top of his head. “Just stop calling me that, okay?! You can think it to yourself all you want, but I don’t want to hear it out loud!”

“Fine! I won’t say it to you ever again then!” 

Donald’s eyes flashed with surprise, briefly disappointment, and then confusion. “But...”

Scrooge could feel himself reach the boiling point at the expressions. “What the bloody hell do you want, lad?! You have to chose one; you’re either my son or you’re not!”

Donald slammed his fist into the wall beside the door. “I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WANT, SO JUST WAIT FOR ME TO FIGURE IT OUT!”

The billionaire watched his nephew panting, his face nearly purple in color. He could feel the anger leaving him, realizing that he had pushed Donald too far. It wasn’t directly a yes, but it hadn’t been a no either. He supposed at that moment that would be the best he would receive. “Alright...until you explicitly tell me otherwise, I won’t.”

The younger duck scowled at the words and didn’t respond to the statement for a long moment. “...whatever...we should try seeing if there’s any clues to what’s happened to-“  
*

“-Della, I beseech thee to calm, as the cries you produce might attract unbecoming company in this foreign location.” Storkules pleaded, noticing the darkening sky in the forest, a chill coming over the air.

Della looked back down from the sky to him, a snarl etched on her face. “I don’t give a crap right now! I’ll shout at Hera until she gets her lazy ass here, because I did not sign up for this!”

Storkules flinched at her insult, gulping anxiously. Though Della had been given the blessing of Hera, didn’t mean that she wouldn’t suddenly change her mind when insulted. The stork mumbled a prayer of forgiveness in Greek under his breath, before addressing her once more. “Della, it would benefit us generously if we were to pursue shelter-“

“I don’t need sleep right now, I need to-“ Della turned to the forest, heading off to unknown territory. He followed after her immediately, eyeing the trees surrounding them for unknown dangers. “-find out where the hell she sent us!”

He reached out to grasp hold of her shoulder, matching her stride. She frowned at his hand, though it wasn’t shaken off. “I desire to pursue knowledge of our surroundings as well, yet I cannot discern them any more than you may.”

“I know that, because she screwed you over too! Hera never said she was going to suddenly whisk us away to some forest in the middle of nowhere, especially when she said we would be doing some sort of spy mission!”

He squeezed her shoulder tighter, whispering. “The Gods thrust those unprepared into quests frequently, without apparent reason. And, one must perceive their conditions, before judging that this may be a mere woodland.”

“You know what I perceive? Trees, trees, and more damn trees! We could literally be anywhere in the world and I’m not even going to know, because I’m only seeing stupid trees!” She pulled away her shoulder harshly, annoyed with what he had said.

“Discerning where we are not is a prodigious guidance to an answer. To begin with, Ithaquack hasn’t the geological atmosphere as our surroundings.” 

The duck inhaled deeply and calmed herself down. “Ok, you’re right...that’s always what you’re supposed to do if you pass out on an adventure, and can’t remember where you are...um, we’re not in the desert and we’re not near the ocean, so that rules out a lot of places...”

“Nor are we encompassed by an icy tundra or the impenetrable rainforests.”

She nodded to herself at those words and headed over to a tree beside her as she studied. “This looks like a type of pine...yeah, there’s pine cones in it, so that helps a little. That’s one of the most common trees to see in a forest, so I don’t think it helps that much.”

Storkules simply observed her, unable to identify the forest as she could it seemed. He hadn’t been aware that she was versed in botany and wondered what else she had knowledge about.She walked over to a patch of overflowing bushes and beamed suddenly as she noticed the plump blueberries dangling off them. “Wow, blueberries! I love these!”

Storkules found himself smiling as well, happy to see the bush bearing the dark fresh fruit to his friend. She reached out to pluck a few and stepped further into the underbrush to get more to nibble on. She dumped the entire handful in her mouth and smiled at him with a purple hue smudged around her bill. “Did you want some? I was starting to get hungry, so these are perfect right no-“

The demigod’s eyes widened as she suddenly disappeared from sight in an instant, voice screaming out in panic as though she were falling. He stood there frozen as the sound of tumbling rocks echoed from below. He lunged forward into the bushes, realizing they had been growing on cliff edge, and peered over it in horror. “Della?!”

Below the cliff edge, a decent amount of feet up, laid Della on spread out face down. She was unmoving and a rock the size of a soccer ball was lying upon her left arm. He stood there with pounding heart being unable to discern in the fading light how much she was possibly bleeding. He felt around with his feet from the edge, turning his back to the sight as he searched for a foot hold. Once he accomplished doing so, he began his descent down the cliff side in an efficient manner. “Friend Della, I am near!”

The demigod wasn’t certain she was conscious to hear, but he felt if she would it would provide her comfort in her pain. He hoped she was only unconscious and not anything much worse. The thought made him increase his speed and he leapt down the last two feet. He squatted down beside her and his eyes widened when realized a pool of blood was growing beneath her still form. “Απόλλωνα, σας παρακαλώ να ευλογείτε τη φυσική της μορφή!”

He reached out with trembling hands to remove the soccer sized on her arm. Then, to her bomber jacket, noticing the dirt caking it, and the tears in the fabric. His hands cupped her shoulder and he rolled her over. Her tangled hair had a few leaves lying in it that he removed gently. A branch had lodged itself into her belt loop and pried it out of her torn shorts. He gulped thickly at the bloody bill and the large cut oozing on her forehead. He had her head lying on his lap as he picked up her crooked arm. Tears welled in his eyes as he recalled how fragile his own mother had been, now finding his friend’s form to be a shockingly similar size. 

Storkules picked her up, cradling her to his chest as he headed off to seek shelter. He was marveled as he realized her metal leg had been completely unharmed in the accident, though her ankle to her other leg was swollen from twisting it during her fall off the edge. His glowing form provided light as night finally approached searching for a cave before the chill increased. 

She groaned lightly, eyelids fluttering as he walked quickly, squinting into the distance. He heard her and spoke to her gently. He was unaware however of the tremble in his voice and the fear he presented to her. “T-The Gods will provide us shelter in our need.”

As she drifted back off into her unconscious state, the demigod could feel panic gripping his heart, fearing that his prayer to Apollo for her health would be left unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be completely honest, I struggled writing out this chapter, despite knowing what I wanted from it. 
> 
> This will be the last update before the brand new episodes that I’m certain we’ve all be dying to see. Though this is definitely an AU, I hope everyone will still be interested in which direction I’m having Castaway heading in. I would say I’m about over halfway to the point I would like to be for this story. As always kudos and love for this story are definitely appreciated!
> 
> Translations: Απόλλωνα, σας παρακαλώ να ευλογείτε τη φυσική της μορφή!  
Apollo, please bless her physical form!
> 
> Apollo is the God of healing archery, poetry, music, and prophecy. His twin sister is Artemis, the Goddess of the hunt, young women, chastity, and of the wilderness.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wouldn’t be the first time we had to wait for her to come back.”

Storkules had removed the tattered bomber jacket as gently as possible, pausing as Della unconsciously released a whimper in her unconscious pained state. After it was apparent that she would not wake, did he continue. The jacket was folded up and her head with lifted, before it was tucked neatly underneath. He raised her arm up to study it, finding it to be horribly bruised, and dangling limply in his strong grasp. “Ο Απόλλων, σε παρακαλώ...”

He gasped aloud when he noticed the bloody tear across her top along her ribcage. The demigod swallowed his anxious tension and thought on what he had known from the healers of Itaquack on how to tend wounds. He needed water for her wound to cleanse it. He hurried from the cave, searching for a water source in the moonlight night.

Storkules didn’t have to search for long, as he noticed the moon’s reflection appearing across a still lake, surrounding by a marshy area along the shore. He waded through the mud, before arriving to the clear water, the sound of frogs croaking loudly at his arrival. He scooped a handful of water and sipped it throatily. He raised his head, observing the breeze rustling the trees nearby.

He cradled the pair of googles that been on Della’s head, one side completely cracked. The other side had scratches across the surface, but would be able to retain water for him to return with. He scooped it across the surface of the water, filling one side to the brim. The demigod whispered to the moon above. “Δίκαιη Σελήν, σας προσφέρω ευγνωμοσύνη για τη βοήθειά σας...συγχωρέστε μου ότι είμαι ανίκανος να μιλήσω αυτή τη στιγμή.”

By the time he had returned to the cave, he found himself craving the warmth of the crackling fireplace. The night had grown cold, as autumn was near. The trees hadn’t quite changed color yet, but he could sense they would soon. He kneeled beside Della, rolling up the side of her top, halting before her chest. The gash was obscured by darkened blood and he gently rinsed half of the water across it. The blood flooded away from the wound, swirling across the cave’s floor.

Though he had a better view now, he knew it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Though her moist feathers partly covered the injury, he could tell that it was deep. The gash wouldn’t be able to be healed, as he didn’t have any necessary supplies to alter the state of it. He briefly thought about using her bomber jacket to wrap the wound, but realized it was filthy from her accident. The stork’s eyes flickered to the hem of his toga in thought. 

The demigod tore a strip off along the bottom of it. He decided to wrap it around her ribs, lifting her limp body off of the ground to roll it around her entire form. He rinsed the blood from her bill, thankful that had seemed to cease there. He reached for a decent sized rock on the opposite side of the cave, elevating her ankle upon it. He eyed her wing, wondering what he could possibly do for it. His bill trembled and he shook her uninjured side. “Della, Della, I need you to awaken.”

The duck didn’t respond for a few seconds, before groaning lowly. Her body shifted briefly and she whimpered. Eyes cracked open and showed they were hazy with pain. He felt guilt for waking her and knew she wouldn’t likely remember this later on. At least he hoped. She didn’t seem to be alarmed by her surroundings, merely confused. “Della, forgive my transgressions, but I must reset your arm.”

“...wha...?” Her voice sounded sluggish and her eyes were blinking slowly.

He knew he hadn’t been given proper permission, but he needed to do so anyways. He grasped hold of her arm and she began to cry from pain. He whispered for forgiveness and set her arm a moment later. She screamed immediately, before her eyes rolled back in her head. He whispered for forgiveness once more as he thanked the Gods for allowing her to lose consciousness yet again.

Storkules stared at the tear tracks upon her cheeks, feeling incredibly horrible for her accepting Hera’s quest to help him. The demigod removed his belt, wrapping it around her neck, and her broken wing. He stood, before heading for he entrance of the cave. He gazed to the sky, thinking of speaking to his sister. Despite the want to confide in his Selene his concerns, he knew he had greater matters to attend to for the sake of his friend.

He retreated back into the cave a few minutes later, struggling to stifle his need for his sister’s companionship. It had been over an hour by this point that he had brought Della to the cave and was distressed by the knowledge that she would already be awakening. By the time he had kneeled by her side, her eyes were hazily staring into the fireplace. “Della?”

She sluggishly turned her gaze to him, voice a raw sound. “...did I...lose...another limb?”

The demigod knew her wing wasn’t quite right and suspected her brain was telling her as much. “Nay, though it was broken. It has been set.”

“Huh...surprised...I didn’t wake...up...” It was clear that the amount of strength it was taking her to speak was taxing.

“You had awoken, though your suffering caused you to succumb to your slumber.”

“...don’t...remember...can’t feel my...side...?”

Her wrappings around her ribcage has completely soaked through with blood again and he knew that he needed to wrap them soon. He presented a false smile and urged her to return to sleep in that moment. After a few seconds she did so, leaving him to guard her for the night. He wiped at his tears that had suddenly welled up in his eyes, wondering when would be able to speak to Selene again.  
*

“We’ve looked everywhere, we’ve asked everyone in the mansion, and even called the grocery store to see if she was there. You should just face the facts: she left us without saying a single goodbye!” Donald spat out, slamming down the phone after speaking to Gladstone, who hadn’t heard a peep from her lately.

“It’s only been a few hours since you last seen Della! I think that might be a bit too early to-“ Scrooge protested, phone clenched right in his grip, after receiving Della’s voicemail for the twelfth time in the past few hours.

Donald buried his hands into his face, sounding exhausted. “Why don’t you ever give up? It’s clear she doesn’t give a crap and you’re just looking for excuses for someone that doesn’t want to be found!”

Scrooge gulped thickly and felt his hands shaking. He had given up on Donald and that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He wasn’t ever going to give up on either of them ever again. Even if there were signs that she had suddenly left without a care to the feelings of her family. “I’m not giving up, Donald, because it doesn’t seem right that she wouldn’t say goodbye if she had the option to. Nor, does it seem normal for that Storkules fella not to say goodbye to you either! I cannot understand where else they would be?”

“As it appears that I will continue to hear her name echoed endlessly for ages unless I address this now, I’ll will be placating your mortal worries at ease.” A peacock stood by the doorway of Scrooge’s office, robes draped across the carpeted floor.

Donald’s head shot up at the words spoken by a stranger that magically appeared and Scrooge blinked in surprise at her entrance. “Who the devil are you?”

She seemed to giving off the radiance of royalty, head held high in a proud stance. Her voice seemed to have an echo to it and her body glowed wit the grace she had. “I am Queen-“

“-Hera,” Donald breathed, face turning a livid shade of purple. “You cursed Storkules, you no good-”

Scrooge knew he would have lunges at her if he wasn’t shackled by his crutches. He had gone off into a series of quacks, fury consuming him in an a instant. He was thankful his nephew didn’t physically attempt to attack her, as Hera’s gaze had turned to a cold one that sent shivers down the billionaire’s spine. He had heard that Hera was much more dangerous than Zeus and wasn’t certain how she would react. He was honestly surprised that she hadn’t gone off into a rage herself for that lack of respect Donald showed her. “Er, you are Hera then?”

She pointed a finger at Donald, who suddenly realized he couldn’t speak, a hand flying to his throat in surprise. “You should count yourself lucky that Harpocrates favors you in many endeavors, otherwise I would have crippled you further than you already are.”

Donald flinched at the words, before his face began to return to that all familiar shade of red. Scrooge hadn’t any idea who Harpocrates was, but he didn’t take lightly to threats aimed at his nephew. He stood, walking around his desk to face her directly. “Now, see here-“

“You may want to curb your words, as I won’t be forgiving more than once having a McDuck treating me disrespectfully.” There was a dangerous glint in her eyes and the smell of apples cloaking the air. 

Donald looked as though he was about to blow a gasket at her frigid threat. Scrooge paused in thought, finding that he didn’t want to push her further than necessary. He wouldn’t receive any answers and she might not be as much of a whiny child as Zeus was. He cleared his throat, cane clutched tightly in his hands as he held back. “Hera, we only desire to know what happened to my niece. I know she and Storkules were interested in a quest that was needed to you in a way.”

The peacock glided across the room to the window beside his desk, eyes changing to that of a disappointed mother that learned her child failed a test. Scrooge jolted at the thought and he noticed Donald raise a shaking hand to his bill. It seemed that the billionaire had a similar thought in that moment. “Della Duck and...Storkules are on my quest I have granted them to investigate a threat to this planet’s livelihood. Those that accept my quests are to depart immediately, once they have arrived at their decision.”

“You...You didn’t even let her say goodbye to us?” Donald could speak now and he had squeaked his reply weakly.

Scrooge couldn’t even find the the words to describe his hurt, knowing she would be gone for likely a long time, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to him one last time. Hera pointed a stern finger at him, face betraying no emotion as she spoke. “You will no longer badger me throughout the day about her whereabouts. If you decide to continue to do so, there will be correction.”

Scrooge felt the words erupt from his throat rebelliously. “You cannot tell us that! Where is she?! We need to speak to her now!”

Hera disappeared without another word and Scrooge yelled to the ceiling for her to come back that instant. He couldn’t allow her to treat him that way! Donald could only observe his uncle wearily, anger drained from him. He thought to himself that his sister wouldn’t return for a long time and realized despite being upset at her, he didn’t truly want her gone. But, she had once again left them behind, and he was crushed. He couldn’t help the words rolling off his tongue bitterly. “It wouldn’t be the first time we had to wait for her to come back.”

Scrooge stopped shouting at the ceiling and turned to stare at him with a gaze of anguish. To Donald’s surprise, instead of growing angry at his lack of motivation to continue on, he decided to sit down next to his nephew with an air of exhaustion. He could tell that the billionaire had finally arrived at the end of his rope. “Aye...I suppose we have...”

Donald hadn’t felt worse in his life about being right in that moment.  
*

“Whom lurks in the shadows by this hour?” Storkules whispered into the darkness outside of the cave, having heard noises outside his direct line of vision.

The fire was a low murmur by this point of the early morning hours and he was sitting next to Della, who was curled up in a painful ball upon the cave floor. He jumped up when he heard someone entering, the crunching of shoes upon rock. The demigod needed to shield her if necessary. He was startled when a young chicken appeared from the darkness, sword gleaming in the light of the fire. Her blue eyes bored into his, before flickering over to Della’s trembling form. “...is she sick?”

He watched the chicken take a step closer with bated breath, her presence putting him on edge. He found it strange that someone would suddenly show up in the middle of the night in such a secluded location. Though he knew it would take a lot of mental strength to do so, he altered his speech to fit more of the century. He needed to keep his identity safe if this woman was an enemy. “...yes, she fell from a cliff during our journey.”

The woman stepped closer to the fire to reveal her details better. Her bob haircut was illuminated by the light and had a few strands out of place. An oversized leather jacket swallowing her form, torn jeans tight against her legs. Her beak piercing gleaned as her sword was, though he found his gaze returning to her suspicious gaze. She narrowed her eyes, words accusing. “Why are you out here? Pretty weird place for you to be wandering around at this time.”

Storkules still hadn’t the foggiest idea where they were, but he sensed that they were in an inaccessible location by her words. He eyed the sword, willing her silently to put it away, before turning her words back to her. “Why are you here then? With a...weapon not many use today.”

A smile spread on her face, though her eyes remained suspicious. “Yeah, that is a good question. One I don’t need to answer.”

He gulped and found his hands turning into tight fists as he smiled tensely in return. “Then, I respectfully decline to answer as well.”

“See, that’s were you’re in the wrong,” Her hand twitched as though to raise her word, but she didn’t do so. “I’m a guardian of sorts in this area and I need to know what your purpose is in our little part of Alaska.”

Storkules had to resist the startled expression he could feel rising to his face. He must have betrayed something even though he held back, because she frowned at him, hand now rising to point at him. He gulped and offered a frail smile. “...perhaps my friend and I unintentionally stumbled onto your land. I am sorry for intruding where we are not wanted.”

“...seems really weird that you just ‘unintentionally’ ended up hundreds of miles from civilization here. What’s your explanation on how you out here, buddy?”

His heart was pounding in his chest and he could see the moon spilling in light from outside the cave. He wasn’t certain how to respond and it had become abundantly clear that he was on his own. His quest was to be a spy and he was already failing spectacularly at that. He couldn’t tell her patience was wearing thin and that she would surely attempt to strike him down. He knew he couldn’t guarantee Della’s safety if a sword was swung at her. After a moment of silence, he went for the truth, as that was what he knew best. “Someone that...hates me sent us here without preparation for what we would face in the wilderness.”

She narrowed her eyes, however her sword finally lowered. “Who did that to you two?”

“Someone that has a lot of power and expects respect despite the faults they have,” There was a waft of pomegranates hovering in the air and he couldn’t help the flinch at the scent. “M-My friend suffers for that now...”

Her eyes flickered back to Della as though accessing how much of a threat an unconscious duck was. He nearly released a sigh of relief when the chicken finally sheathed her sword. She nodded her head, the gleam of suspicion lessened a fraction. “What’s your name then?”

“W-Where...?” Storkules turned around to find Della rolling her head to them in confusion, eyes widening when she realized there was someone she didn’t quite recognize beside her friend.

The demigod’s eyes darted back for the hand that had returned to the handle of that acursed sword. He knew that the duck was going to panic though, so he strode forward to Della, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake in turning his back. He knelt beside her and placed a hand to press her back down to the ground. He spoke in a low tone, knowing he wasn’t far enough away to talk about their actual plans. He found himself starting to slip back into his normal words. “Do not attempt to rise in your weakened form.”

“W-Who...?”

“We have trespassed it seems on her land and she was inquiring about what we are doing here. I know that you are in pain and I believe she could help us,” Storkules looked back up to see her hovering closer now. “Will you help my friend while she’s hurt?”

“I might, if you tell me your name first,” Storkules hopes she had forgot that question and now she was waiting for his reply. The chicken tilted her head, beginning to reveal the blade of her sword once more in warning. “Why the hesitation?”

“F-Forgive my fear over revealing my name to a stranger that has a weapon when I do not have one,” He stated, watching her mill over his choice words. He thought of a name that flashed suddenly through his head, recalling a city he had occupied in ancient times. “If you must know however, my name is Korinthos.”

“That doesn’t sound American. Why would someone not part of the country being doing out here in Alaska?” Her expression darkened, nearly venomous.

Storkules’ heart pounded in his throat, his eyes flickering briefly back to Della who had gone silent. She was shaking with what was either fear or loss of blood. He suspected it was more of the latter. Her eyes were wide, pupils mere pinpricks. He hoped she would be losing consciousness again soon. “It is...Greek. I am from Greece, but now I live in this country.”

“Your accent is hardly even there...how are you able to speak so fluently when you just moved here recently?” 

“W-We speak a mixture of Greek, English, and Italian where I’m from...please, may we talk more about this at a later time? My friend has bled through her bandages again, and she is about to pass out.” If Della didn’t receive the help she desperately needed, the demigod feared the worse for her fate.

She tapped her fingers against the sword and he found himself growing upset over how long she mulled this over. After a moment, the sword clinked back into the sheath. She nodded at Della, looking her directly in a hazy eyes. “What’s your name?”

Della glanced up at Storkules, frowning in confusion. She was barely there mentally by this point and only recognized him as an ally. He spoke to her in a calm tone, hoping she would be aware enough to make up one as he had. “Your name. She wants to know who you are.”

Her eyes were drooping exhaustingly as she turned her head to the stranger. She opened her bill, panting from the effort of attempting to speak. “I-I’m...I-I’m...I-Isabella...F-Finch...t-the...s-second...”

The bird stared at them with a frown. “Whose the first?”

“...g-great...grandma...” Storkules had felt relief and then dread as Della’s eyes abruptly shut. 

“She’s lost a lot of blood...with that injury at her ribcage, she likely won’t last long.” The way she said this was as if she were she hadn’t cared in the slightest about the state Della was lingering in. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, her hip cocked, as she stared lazily at the pair before her.

He squeezed the duck’s arm, praying that the chicken would offer medical assistance, if there was some nearby. The demigod looked up at her with desperation apparent in his body language. “Please, she needs medical care, Miss...what do I call you?”

“74.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Seventy-four is your name?”

“No, but that’s what you will call me,” She didn’t leave any room for questioning her name further, before heading for the entrance of the cave. 74 paused and turned her head around to stare at him in exasperation. “You gonna sit there all night?”

“Oh, of course not!” He gasped aloud, realizing that she was offering Della help. He hastily gathered his broken friend into his strong arms. 74 had gone off hurriedly, leaving him struggling briefly to catch up with her, as she trudged on into the dense forest. He caught up, finding his sister had lit a path brighter than usual with the moonlight from above. 

He called out to her and squeezed Della tightly to his broad chest. “74, can I ask where we are heading to? I am not that familiar with Alaska.”

“No, you can’t.” 

Her tone had been hard, as though daring him to question further. Though he wanted 74 to bring him to where Della could receive help, he found this entire situation to be unnerving. He knew he was far enough away that he could run for it and be able to easily get away, considering his immortal speed. There were no guarantees that Della would survive the night with her still bleeding wound however. He had been so caught up by his thoughts, he was startled to find the chicken standing impatiently before him. “What?”

“I said, put on this blind fold,” She presented it to him, not seeming to be bothered by the fact that his hands were full with his friend. “You’re not permitted to know where we’re heading off to.”

“I haven’t a clue as to where we are already. And, I do not feel comfortable blindly carrying Isabella around without being able to see where I’m going.”

“That’s funny that you think you get to make the choices around here,” She chuckled humorlessly. “You either put this on or you’re going to regret saying no to me.”

Storkules realized in that moment that he was dealing with someone that was more dangerous that he originally believed and that where she was heading might be as well. If it meant that Della would be well again though, he would be willing to head into danger. He squatted to briefly lay down Della in the grass, before taking the blindfold from the chicken’s grasp. He tied it tightly around his eyes, vision completely obscured. “May we continue on now?”

There was a brief stint of silence and there was what felt like a blast of air from a hand waving itself in front of his face. She was testing his vision. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The stork reached down blindly for Della and heard 74 already leaving without him. He scrambled to gather her up once more, cringing at the unconscious whimper that erupted from her bill. He hadn’t meant to make her feel anymore pain than she already had. He increased his pace, until he heard the chicken walking in front of him once more. “What if I were to trip at th-?”

He found himself stumbling forward from a branch that had managed to wrap himself around his webbed foot. He felt something jab him in the side at the same moment and yelped in surprise. He corrected his stance, being able to stand back up straight. “Would you shut up already? You don’t get to ask questions and if you keep doing that, I’m going to hit you with the blade of my sword next time, instead of the hilt.”

“But-“ She suddenly whacked him in the foot and he nearly fell over in surprise. None of this hurt, as his body was impervious to sores that would rise from such minor inflictions. He didn’t say another word though, since he worried she might become irritated enough that she would threaten Della. Instead, he kept his silence as they walked on for what was surely hours, as the sun became to glow through his blind fold by a certain point.

“Stop,” 74 commanded and he halted all movement. He nearly tripped over a rock when he did so, for what was surely the millionth time since he had been blind folded, but steadied himself. From up ahead there was a rustling and a low beeping noise. A moment later, there was a distinct click, before a low thunk was heard from below his feet. “Take three steps forward into the bushes up ahead.”

He did so meticulously, finding the bushes to be scratching as high up as his kneecaps. Her voice sounded as though it was below him and felt she wanted to cruelly lead him off the edge of a cliff in an attempt injure him as much as Della. “Give her over. I’m directly below you.”

“I-I’m not com-“ He could envision himself releasing her and 74 suddenly disappearing altogether, neither ever to be seen again.

“Give her over, or I’m going to-“ He suddenly felt a strong presence from behind and then what felt as though a wack to the back by a sturdy log. He stumbled forward, slipping without any ground beneath him. He curled his body protectively around Della as he crashed upon what felt like a metallic floor. 74’s voice echoed around him, shrill from anger. “-the hell did you do that?!”

A voice from above shouted down furiously at her. “You brought a complete stranger here, you absolutely foolish girl!”

He ripped off his blindfold to reveal the metallic walls of a tunnel surrounding him. He blinked at the light from above the entrance in the ceiling, finding the outline of what appeared to be a bird from above hissing at 74. Said chicken was standing at the base of a ladder built into the wall, hands on her hips. The demigod uncurled himself, finding Della’s blood spilling across the floor, and soaking completely into his torn tunic. He was completely unharmed, but the same couldn’t be said of Della in that moment. 

What turned out to be a heron jumped from the height above, landing with a loud echo onto the metallic floor below. She faced 74, who had scowled in return. Storkules could only stare in surprise at the older woman in the red dress, metal arm glistening from the sunlight above. She had been the one to hit him and he wasn’t all that certain how she had done so. She noticed Storkules sitting on the floor, cradling Della to his chest protectively, fearing for his friend. “You know what the council said about bringing in outsiders! They could be connected to McDuck!”

74 whirled around with blazing eyes, grip on the handle of her sword tight as she hissed back in reply. “Neither of these two share the names or the faces of people we know that are connected to him, you bitch!”

“That ‘we know’ is the key word!” The heron narrowed her eyes, metallic fist punching a red button beside the entrance he had fallen through. The door above closed as though it were a vault, slam echoing all around then, and the lights immediately went out. 74’s voice was hi-pitched, in the moment before the blinking red lights appeared from above. “You sounded the alarm?!”

A loud screeching filled the air and Storkules knew in that moment that Hera had sent them exactly where she wanted them for the quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am at over 300 kudos?! I can’t believe how much readers are enjoying my story and I could have never dreamed that Cast Away would be as popular as it has been! That, and the new Ducktales episodes, have definitely been funding my motivation to continue on with this story as long as I have. Thank you all, honestly, for the kudos and support! See you next week. 
> 
> Greek Translations: Ο Απόλλων, σε παρακαλώ...  
Apollo, please...
> 
> Δίκαιη Σελήν, σας προσφέρω ευγνωμοσύνη για τη βοήθειά σας...συγχωρέστε μου ότι είμαι ανίκανος να μιλήσω αυτή τη στιγμή.  
Fair Selene, I offer you gratitude for your help ... forgive me for not being able to speak right now.
> 
> Kudos to anyone that knows who Harpocrates is the Greek God of!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why is that nephew of mine always hiding so much...”

Uncle and nephew sat beside one another, a depressive air suffocating them. Donald had ten years worth of birthdays feeling that cloaking him and he could hardly stand a moment more. He gathered up his crutches, desperate to escape. He had made it as far as opening the door, when he heard Scrooge call out to him. “Lad...what did Hera mean by Harpocrates favoring you? Who is that?”

Donald was tempted to act as though he hadn’t a clue, but he knew his uncle wouldn’t let it be forgotten. “Please, don’t ask that of me.”

Scrooge rapped his fingers against the desk they had been previously sitting at, thoughtful expression painted on his face. “So, you do know who that is?”

“...I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yet another thing you don’t want to talk about.”

“Some things are best left alone, Uncle Scrooge. Not everything needs to be a mystery solved.” He grumbled back. He didn’t leave however, knowing he shouldn’t walk away like he had been for years by that point.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to solve it! I’ve been trying to figure out a lot of your mysteries for years and it concerns me how many secrets you have from your family, lad.” Donald could hear it in Uncle Scrooge’s voice: he was worried. 

“I...I can’t...” He couldn’t look him in the eyes as he said that, staring at the door he wanted to leave through.

“And why not?” Was the soft reply.

“...I-I can’t tell you...” He could hear the distress in his tone and could feel the eyes boring into him from behind. 

“...you can never it seems...” Uncle Scrooge sounded disappointed, but not even surprised by the sailor’s reply. 

Donald fled as he always did.  
*

The air was still, a mildly warm summer night in downtown Duckburg. A haze of clouds hovered above the city. A flickering light nearby finally exhausted itself. In the distance a car alarm went off, signaling a likely car jacking in progress. In a dumpster in the alleyway behind Hungry Hippo on fourth and fifth avenue, a low groan was heard. The garbage inside rustled and clanked, as it was pushed aside. A masked head popped out, a trembling hand reaching up to rip it off their face.

The young face of Donald Duck was revealed, a black eye already present, and the line of blood from his forehead was about to dribble into his eyes. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, before attempting to pull himself from the dumpster. His hands slipped from the mysteriously gunk caked on his hands and fill back directly into the mush below. “PHOOEY!” 

After a painful few seconds, he attempted to do so once more. He finally managed to drag himself out, face planting directly into the ground. The car alarm faded off, as the sound of a car peeling away was heard. The duck lifted himself up and stood wearily. He swayed, a horrible pounding in his head. He didn’t quite remember what had happened, but he knew he shouldn’t stay here. He heard a screaming in the distance and he stumbled forward to the sound. 

After heaving a few deep breathes, he pulled his mask back on. A moment later he arrived to the street, finding a young robin shoved up against a wall, a sly looking ferret pressing her against it. “Help! Somebody help!”

“Nobody gonna hear you at this time ol’ night, sweet little birdie...” He cooed at her, eyes narrowed suggestively.

“Hey!” Donald called out to them and they both froze. The robin gasped when she noticed him, mouthing his name in a hush of relief.

The ferret jerked away instantly, hands raised up high with a gasp. “D-Duck Avenger! I promise I wasn’t doing nuthin’!”

“Uh-huh, you definitely weren’t trying to defile her in the middle of the street?” He hummed aloud, before suddenly lunging forward to kick the ferret’s feet out from underneath him.

The animal immediately fell over onto his backside and scrambled backwards. The robin was clutching her purse tightly, shaking from head to toe in fear. The ferret raised his hands in defense as Donald advanced on him, fear clear in his eyes. “W-Wait, hold on jus’ a moment-!”

Donald didn’t hesitate to kick his face in and felt a deep satisfaction when there was a loud crack as his nose exploded with a gush of blood. The robin gasped at the action and the ferret covered his face as he howled out. The duck reached down to grab at his left ear, ignoring the gasp the ferret released at the sharp pain. “Leave now and I won’t beat you into the ground where you cower.”

“Ok, ok! J-Just let go, please!” He pleaded and Donald twisted his ear. The ferret whimpered pitifully, before the duck finally released his grip. The ferret hoped up immediately and bolted down the street with heaving breath. “S-Shit!”

Donald whirled around unsteadily and staggered towards the robin. “Are you alright?”

“Oh! Yes, I’m fine...are you...you look like you’re about to pass out? Is that blood?” She didn’t move an inch, frozen in place.

Donald figured he must look worse than he felt, considering her face of horror. He shook his head at her, immediately regretting the action. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. He raised a hand to wave her away. “Go home. You shouldn’t be out at this hour.”

“I was just walking home from the overnight shift at-“ She started to explain, but he was already on his way off down the street once more. She called out his superhero name several times, but he continued on without a care any longer. The sun was rising and he needed to be home soon.  
*

“Why is that nephew of mine always hiding so much...” Scrooge mumbled to himself, allowing Donald to keep them to himself once more. He couldn’t go chasing after the duck every time he ran. What he had learned over the years was that the more he pushed, the more defensive he would end up becoming. He wouldn’t be able to get any answers at that rate!

Of course, some secrets he had never received an answer to. One of his biggest ones being at the moment was that Harpocrates...was that another Greek deity? He tried to recall what Hera had said to Donald earlier. He tapped his fingers against the desk and decided a quick Zoogle search wouldn’t hurt. It was so much easier researching by the internet, than it was by searching through dozens of old books. He paused when the screen light up with Launchpad’s name as an incoming call. He swiped his finger across and picked up the call. “Launchpad? You better have a good reason why you haven’t answered until now!”

“Hey, Mr. McDee...sorry I didn’t answer...” His voice sounded lackluster and that in itself was enough of an indication that something was wrong.

“Launchpad...are you alright?” Scrooge asked slowly, beginning to stand from the desk.

There was a long pause and then a choked sound. When the younger duck finally spoke, his voice was trembling. “E-Everything is fine!”

“You don’t sound alright. Where are you, lad? You’re...worrying me,” His grip was tight on the phone during his confession. There was a gasping noise as though he was releasing a series of sobs he was attempting to hold back on the other side of the line. He hadn’t ever heard the pilot cry in all the years he’s known him. “Launchpad, tell me right now where you are.”

“I-I’m at...S-St. Canard General.”

Scrooge was already flying down the staircase by the time he had heard those words and pressed his hand against the phone to block out his calls for Bentina going into the receiver. “Where are you hurt? I thought I was your emergency contact, so why wasn’t I called?”

“I-It’s not for me...i-it’s for...” He let out the most painful noise Scrooge had heard from him. “D-Drake is...”

The billionaire’s eyes widened and he called out once more to Bentina as he headed out the door with the keys already in his hand. He headed towards the Land Rover in the garage, determined to drive the vehicle himself if she didn’t appear in a moment. “Launchpad, what happened? Is he...is he in stable condition?”

“N-No!” Launchpad cried into the receiver and didn’t answer the question beyond that noise. In the background he heard a young, feminine voice grasping the pilot’s attention. He frowned at the sound and heard Launchpad speaking to her in a low tone. “...d-don’t know...Gosalyn, D-DW is...”

“What is it? The children and Donald are concerned by all your yelling.” He nearly jumped through the roof of the garage. Bentina was standing directly behind him with a frown on her face. Usually he was good at paying attention to his surroundings, but Launchpad was focusing all of his attention to him in that moment. He wordlessly handed the keys to her and entered the back seat of the vehicle. She seemed to sense his urgency and began to start up the Land Rover. 

“Launchpad, who are you speaking to over there?”

“Um, oh, Gosalyn. She is...um, D-Drake...well, he wanted to actually foster the kid.” Foster a child? He hadn’t even been aware that Darkwing Duck was planning on taking anyone under his wing. The pilot seemed to sense his confusion, as he explained. “H-He was talking about the entire time I was healing up from an concussion with him...I...I was gonna help him out.”

“Where to?” Bentina called out, her eyes making contact with his in the rear view mirror.

“St. Canard General,” He shot back. “Why is she with you now?”

“S-She was there when h-he-!” Launchpad broke off, weeping heavily. He made eye contact in the rear view mirror and mouthed for Bentina to hurry. She increased speed immensely, going well over the limit stated along the road. After a minute longer, Launchpad collected himself. “I-I know she should be back at the o-orphanage, b-but she wanted to stay until he woke up...I-I couldn’t say no to the kid.”

“That’s fine, lad. I’m sure the orphanage will understand considering the circumstances. I’ll be there soon and you can tell me everything, alright?” His concerns for Donald would have to wait for now.  
*

“Huh, I wonder what that was all about?” Webby mused, staring at the vehicle peeling away through one of the front windows.

“Uncle Scrooge sounded stressed out.” Huey agreed, frowning over all of his great-uncle’s frantic shouts.

“We could always go find out.” Louie chimed, eyeing his red eyed brother in the blue shirt, as though urging him on to agree.

“Or, we could all just stay here, since I don’t want any of you involved in this, considering it’s been made obvious that we shouldn’t mess around with his emergency.” Donald shook his head sternly at them.

There was a chorus of disappointment from three of them, while Dewey stared out the window in worry. Donald hadn’t ever seen the 13-year-old not try to protest over not being able to sneak out for an adventure. The sailor understood why though at the moment and it was time for the others to find out. “Huey, Louie, Webby, we need to talk about something.”

“What’s wrong, Uncle Donald?” Louie asked as they circled around him in the entry way.

“Are you finally getting your new leg? Oh, or are you getting a tattoo?” Webby gasped aloud, before her eyes widened. “Are you dying?!”

“What?! Why would Uncle Donald be dying?!” Huey yelped in surprise as Donald quacked out a harsh ‘no’.

“What the hell, Webby?” Louie hissed at her, glaring.

She looked apologetic and scratched at the back of her head sheepishly. “Sorry, I got overexcited about your news.”

“Why did you immediately jump to the idea of him dying?” Louie stared at her in horrified confusion, shaking his head.

“Enough with talking about me dying already!” Donald scolded them furiously and they all snapped their bills shut guiltily.

“Uncle Donald isn’t dying, you guys! Mom just left without saying goodbye to anyone!” Dewey finally blurted, left hand clutching at his shirt.

“What? Are you sure, Dewey? That doesn’t seem like something Mom would do.” Huey was shaking his head in denial.

“Ok, you know I didn’t get along well with Mom at first, and even I think that would be a weird thing for her to do.” Louie looked skeptical.

“Why would Miss Duck do that?” Webby had titled her head to the side.

Donald sighed and decided to explain to all of them the entire truth of what had happened recently. “The Goddess that gave Della and Storkules the quest told me and Uncle Scrooge that she sent both of them away before they had a chance of saying goodbye.”

“Hera was here, again?” The red hatted duck was staring with wide eyes.

“A Goddess was in the mansion?!” Webby gasped with stars in her eyes.

Louie leaned closer to her, using a hand to partly cover his bill. “We didn’t miss much; Mom says she’s no good.”

“What? Did she like force them out the door or something?” Dewey questioned him suspiciously.

“Hera apparently didn’t give them a choice...Della was leaving either way though...” He bitterly mumbled towards the end, unaware that the blue shirted duck was able to hear that. Dewey felt even more upset at his mother for making his uncle feel that way. The sailor shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do now, because she wouldn’t even tell us where they are.”

“Wait, wait, hold on: Mom and Storkules are on a quest for some crummy Goddess and we don’t know where they are?” Louie was staring in surprise at him, as though he were the one at fault.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine...” The duck in the blue shirt sounded as though he didn’t care either way, which just made Donald start to wonder about the safety of his sister and friend.

Surprisingly it was Webby that came to the rescue. “Can’t Storkules actually lift the house boat with his bare hands? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him so that before, when he lived here for awhile.”

Huey, who held a ton of tension in his posture, seemed to relax fractionally. Dewey looked as though he suddenly remembered Storkules had immortal powers. Only Louie seemed to frown and Donald knew he was thinking exactly the same thing: he’s part mortal though. Donald voiced the problem at hand. “He’s not invincible though. He might have an-“

“-Achilles heel!” Huey tore his hat off and began twisting it in his hands anxiously.

“What’s that?” Dewey asked in confusion.

“Like the Greek hero!” Webby informed him as though that explained everything.

“Ok, like I know some stuff about Greek heroes, but I don’t know enough to know what’s the deal with whoever that is.” The duck in the green hoodie said.

Huey recited what he knew off of the top of his head. “Achilles was in the story of the Illiad by Homer and the story of him in the last year of the Trojan War. He was said to be invincible, because he was dipped in the River Styx as a baby, and that was supposed to grant him invulnerability as a result. Legend has it that he was a real warrior during the actual war.”

“And how would some river give him magical powers of invulnerability?” 

“Because, Dewey, the River was a barrier between the Underworld and ours, with powers of the immortal realm infused in it.” Huey informed him, finally relaxing enough with his history lesson to stop twisting his hat.

“What do you mean by heel though? Was there something wrong with his?” Louie noticed that the detail had been left out.

“His heel wasn’t dunked in,” Donald told him, before Huey could speak. All of four of them turned their attention over to him, surprised that he knew about that. The sailor continued on with his gaze lingering on the ground as he recalled the rest of the story. “His heel was the only part of him not protected. Paris, the one whose wife was abducted that and was said to cause the Trojan War, shot him in the heel with an arrow. He died instantly.”

Huey stared at him in awe. “That’s right...how did you know that, Uncle Donald?”

He shrugged, as though it wasn’t a huge deal. “When you meet a bunch of Greek Gods when you’re eleven, you want to know everything there is about them.”

“Ok, are we going to ignore the fact that Mom and Storkules might be in trouble then?” Louie asked them, taking in their unalarmed expressions.

Dewey had a dawning expression on his face, as though he was finally realizing the danger Della and Storkules could be in. “...we have to help them.”

“Uh, I don’t even know where we would even start, since we don’t even know where they are.” Webby said.

Donald frowned. “I don’t know what you four are thinking, but none of you are looking for any leads on this. I don’t even think you all could find any anyways since Hera set them off who knows where.”

“But, what about Mom? She could seriously be in trouble!” Louie attempted to reason with his Uncle, while Dewey stared at his uncle with a conflicted expression about the sailor not trying harder to find his sister.

“Well, she should have thought about that, before accepting the quest!” Donald snapped back at him and Louie shut his bill at the tone used. “None of you are going to look for your Mom and that’s final!”

Webby began to raise her hand and Donald pointed at her sternly “No Webby, you’re not going to look for her either.”

She lowered her hand and Huey got his attention instead. “Are you and Uncle Scrooge going to look for them though?”

“We’re not going to talk about this right now. I want everyone to go off to bed now. School is starting soon and you all need to get in the habit of going to bed earlier.” All three of the 13-year-olds began to protest at this. “Stop that, you’re all going to bed right now!”

“But, Uncle Donald, I wanted to stay the night again!” Dewey pleaded, the other two brothers blinking in surprise by the fact their triplet had slept with their uncle recently.

“Not tonight, Dewey. You need to sleep in your actual room,” Webby raised her hand and he nearly groaned aloud. “That includes you, Webby. Ms. Beakley wants to wake you up at the same time for lessons.”

“Aw man...” She mumbled to herself, already heading off obediently. 

Louie and Huey were whispering to one another as Dewey stood there was a shuttered expression. Donald frowned at them with a raised eyebrow and they stopping speaking. He spoke with a warning tone in his voice, harboring no games. “Boys...”

“Yes, Uncle Donald.” The pair chorused to him and begun to reluctantly climbed the staircase. He stood there, eyeing them as they paused to stare at Dewey who hadn’t moved an inch. Donald glowered, and Louie grumbled to Huey about how unfair it was Dewey got to stay as they finally went up the staircase for bed.

After the other triplets were gone, Dewey stared at him with watery eyes. “Why can’t I again?”

Donald reached out to hold his shoulder comfortably. “Dewey, you need to sleep in your own room. I know you’re upset lately, but you’re getting too old to sleep in my bed.”

“That was the first time in over a year though! And I used to all the time!”

“Well, you’re older now. I let you last night because you were upset with your Mom, but I can’t do this every night with you. You need to go to your room-“

“I don’t want to though!”

“Dewey, if you don’t march to your room-“

“It’s not even my room! I’m with Huey and Louie, as always, and I’m tired of it!” He pulled his shoulder away and crossed his arms over his chest.

The duck suddenly realized what was happening and was reminded of himself when he made the same decision at 12-years-old. “Do you really mean that, Dewey?”

“I do! I’ve always had to share everything with them and I don’t think I can stand it anymore.”

“...is this also about the therapy session?” He dropped his hands and fiddled with them, before nodding his head. “Dewey, you do need to talk to your brothers and make up over this, but I’ll ask Uncle Scrooge which room you can stay in if you really want that. Can you just go to your room for tonight though?”

Dewey seemed relieved when he was alright with him getting his own room, then hesitated when he heard he still had to return to his same one for the night. The sailor thought he was going to argue further as he usually did, but he didn’t surprisingly in this case. “Ok, Uncle Donald...”

“I love you.” He called out as he ascended the stairs, feeling as though he needed to convey how much he cared.

“Love you, too.” Dewey called back, before disappearing, and allowing the sailor’s heart to warm at the words.

Donald waited for the sound of webbed feet to fade off, before he pulled out his phone to text Scrooge. He asked him what was happening and why they had gone off so fast earlier. He wasn’t expecting an answer for awhile, as it seemed the event was an emergency. So, he turned his crutches to the goal of a seat by the fireplace and settled in to wait for the night. Someone needed to guard the entrance to make sure no one had any plans to go find clues on where Hera had sent their loved ones.

After awhile, without even realizing it, he faded off to sleep.  
*

Donald scaled the side of the wall surrounding the property of McDuck manor with all the grace of a newborn. He literally fell face first into the grass on the opposite side. He must have lost consciousness for a moment, as he suddenly gasped awake, seeing that the sun had grown brighter in the distance. He needed to get into his room before someone came by to check why he wasn’t up for school yet.

Donald lifted himself up wearily, not realizing he left a trail of blood in his wake. He could hardly feel the pain as his body had gone numb. He arrived at the pipe leading up his bedroom, groaning when he remembered what he had to do to get up there. He stared up at the sky, the 17-year-old asking for guidance. “Please, help a duck out...”

The hero reached up for a the pipe and pulled himself up. His shoulders burned from the effort, but he continued to pull upwards, legs scrambling against the piping as he did so. About half way through, he felt his grip slipping, gloves moist with blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a thin line of it dripping down into his eyes. He made it to the top though, hands gripping the crack windowsill. He cracked open the window and finally pulled himself in with a pained squeak. Handprint smears of blood were ominously left behind in his wake.

The hero laid across the floor by the window, panting harshly from his actions. His entire body ached and the matching wounds on the front of his shoulders dripped blood down his wings. He sat up, vision blacking briefly. He didn’t move a muscle until it cleared once more, before crawling on hands and knees to the anointing bathroom. He tore off his suit, pulling himself into the shower to allow the water to poor over his broken form.

After a few minutes, he had washed most of the dumpster debris and blood from his body. The duck found the strength to stand, though he remained hunched over. He doesn’t recall how, but suddenly he was wrapping bandages around his wounds. He must have been working on autopilot. He hissed at the tightness he had done them at, hoping to halt the bleeding.  
“Son of a bitch...”

He nearly jumped six feet in the air when he heard Della knocking on his bedroom door. “Don, are you still asleep in there?”

She couldn’t come in or she would see all the blood! He attempted to hide his pain, but his voice broke. “I-I’m fi-une!”

He cringed at the weak sound and knew she had definitely heard it. Before she had even answered, he was shoving his destroyed suit into one of the cabinets underneath the sink to hide his identity. “Are you alright? You don’t sound too good.”

“I-I’m alright! J-Just-!”

He was already throwing on a shirt over his head when he realized what she was about to do. “I’m coming in!”

“W-Wait-!” His heart pounded and he ignored the burning in his shoulders as he tore open the bathroom door in a panic. Della was standing there with the bedroom door open, staring at him in confusion for his screaming. There was no blood in sight, despite the amount he had let out on the carpeted floor. “Uhhhh...”

“You’re being super weird...and you’re up late. The bus is going to be here in like five minutes, dude.” Della glanced around the room with a raised eyebrow.

“Five minutes?!” He yelped, stumbling over to his desk wildly to gather his school supplies. He hadn’t realized he had gotten home from patrol so late!

She must have assumed his unsteady gait was due to his anxiety, as she rolled her eyes and disappeared from the door with a laugh. “Looks like you’re missing out on breakfast again! Try explaining that one to Duckworth!”

He cringed at the thought, knowing he would surely receive a lecture on having healthy and balanced meals. The butler seemed to constantly be watching Donald and he had almost revealed his secret too many times to count now! The duck needed to at least grab a snack to appease him or he would get a worse lecture after school. He had shoved everything he needed into his backpack, flying from the room. He had completely forgotten the blood vanishing from his room or the stains oozing into the titles of the bathroom.

He didn’t notice the single red rose sitting in the windowsill of the room.  
*

Donald blinked awake and wondered why he had been roused from his slumber. The lights were off in the entry way and a blanket was draped over his form. It occurred to him briefly that Duckworth had done so and suddenly wondered to himself the last time he had a proper conversation with the ghost. His dream had reminded him greatly of him and not he ached to speak to the dog. His phone ringing insistently though and he glanced down at his phone sitting neatly in his lap. The sailor swiped to answer the call when he noticed it was his uncle. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you, lad?” Donald pulled his phone from his face and glanced at the time. 5:32 in the morning, so of course he had. His groggy voice had surely been an indication as well. Uncle Scrooge cleared his throat awkwardly. “Er, I suppose I did, but you were wondering what had happened. Drake Mallard has been in operation at St. Canard General for a few hours now and it looks like thankfully he’ll be pulling though.”

“Launchpad’s boyfriend? Why was he in surgery?” He frowned, knowing the pilot must have been distraught.

There was a long pause, with what suspiciously sounded like ‘forgot you didn’t know about that’. His frown deepened at the words and went to question once more. Uncle Scrooge beat him to it though. “There was an accident. He’s pulled through fine, but for a few hours it was touch and go.”

There was a lie there and he was certain that the accident part was it. “What kind of accident? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Donald. He’s alright now, but I think I’m going to stay a wee bit longer with Launchpad, since he has his hands full for the time being.”

“I mean, he has to deal with his stuntman boyfriend most the time.”

“Aye, but there’s a child here as well. She is...well, both Launchpad and Drake know her, and he’s watching out for lass,” He was about to ask why Launchpad was with a random child, but then recalled who he was thinking about in the first place. The grown duck had more friends with those under the age of eighteen, than over. “Just let the boys and Webby know it isn’t anything serious, since I know they’re plotting to sneak out here.”

He knew that no one had left, as Duckworth would have halted them while Donald slept, but didn’t mean they hadn’t been up all night making plans to escape at dawn. “I’ll let them know.”

“Good night, Donald. I’ll be back in a few hours for your appointment.”

“Which I can drive to on my own.” Donald reminded him, recalling the drive Launchpad he had awhile back. His Uncle refused to allow him to do so again though, as the billionaire thought he couldn’t do it with one leg. He recalled a time in his childhood the old duck had done it when both of his legs were broke and he had managed fine. What a hypocrite!

“Bentina will drive you when he get back.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

That didn’t mean the sailor wouldn’t try it though. He just bit his tongue for the moment though, because he promised he would try to get along with uncle. Even if it meant that he was being treated like a child it seemed. “Yes, Uncle Scrooge.”  
*

He never could recall that day of school, even years later. He was in a haze from the amount of painkillers he had downed, hidden in the pocket of backpack. He must have been high as a kite most of the day, but nobody had noticed a damn thing. All he knew that he lost of a number of bullies that day and whenever he asked anyone why they would laugh, assuming he was joking. He was afraid of little, considering his grunge attitude towards life, but he had been terrified to ask his sister, and she never brought up the subject.

What he did remember was standing beside his window in the last afternoon, twirling the rose with no thorns in-between his fingers. He knew the garden Duckworth kept outside didn’t include any rose bushes and wondered where it had came from. Or where the blood he left behind in the bathroom had disappeared to since he had returned. If the butler had cleaned that himself, he surely would have questioned Donald about it by now.

The duck finally decided to account it to his impaired state he had been in earlier that day and finally shrugged it off. He wasn’t certain he could explain it any other way that wouldn’t give him goosebumps. The 17-year-old tried not to focus on those types of things, despite the frequency that those events happened to him.

Donald tried to not think about the fact that the rose never did die in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🌹


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a few short mentions of throwing up around the beginning of the chapter, starting after “Who even are you?”.

Storkules lunged forward as he awoke, gasping loudly for his friend, only to be halted short by handcuffs bound around his wrists. “Della?!”

He panted laboriously, as though he had run until his legs had given out, throat dry as ash. He blinked rapidly, vision swimming. His heart was strangely beating faster than average. From a corner of the room he was came the careless voice of someone he knew. “She’s in the bed next to you, idiot.”

74 was sitting in a chair in the corner with a textbook on quantum physics laid open in her lap. The demigod blinked slowly at her bored expression, before turning his head to the left to reveal his unconscious friend. A variety of machines that he wasn’t quite familiar with were attached to her. He could judge that they were assisting her however, as she appeared to be in far better condition than she had been before. Her clean hair was gently spread out across the pillow beneath her head, her entire upper body bound by bandages. Her arm had a fresh wrap, the sling making it so limb laid across her stomach. Her feathers no longer appeared ruffled and sweaty. She had properly been taken care of and he could feel the concern in his bosom lessen.

The stork went to push himself from his own bed, but was yet again halted by the cuffs around his wrist, chaining him to the bed. He could have easily broken them, but he was certain most average mortals couldn’t do so. Instead Storkules looked to 74 with a curious expression. “Why am I chained to the bed?”

“Because, we don’t know what your intentions are, or who exactly you are.” She flicked the textbook to a new page, blowing a bubble with her gum.

“I’ve told you already that my name is Korinthos and this is-“

“-Isabella Finch the Second, supposedly, yeah, I know. Except, there was something I didn’t quite know, that 28 does: Isabella Finch never had any children, as she was apparently very openly ‘uninterested’ in the opposite sex.” 74 had snapped the textbook shut, eyes narrowed furiously.

“T-That does not mean she had always been uninterested however. She could have possibly tried it out and decided it wasn’t for her after producing a heir that was unknown to history.” He could feel sweat beaded on the back of neck and realized he was in over his head.

“Possibly...I think that’s really unlikely though...just like it’s unlikely that 28 would be willing to more than once stop the guards from ending your life, just so I can be allowed to integorate you,” She leaned forward slowly, eyes anything but kind in that moment. “So, for the last time...what is your name and what is your purpose here?”

“I-I-I am K-Korinthos-“ He couldn’t stop himself from stuttering from how nervous he was at being caught, at having Della be in danger. He hadn’t ever had to lie as extensively as he had been since Hera had sent them on this quest.

74 sighed with a roll of her eyes, before pressing a finger into her ear. She spoke clearly and coldly. “Take the woman.”

The door opened, a pair of bulky dogs in uniforms that entered boldly. Storkules stared at them for a long moment in anticipation as they headed towards Della’s bed menacingly. They grabbed the railing, dragging the wheeled furniture towards the open door. He could feel a spike of anxiety at the action. “Where are you taking her?! Where is she going to?!”

“Somewhere we can make her reveal the truth.” 74 informed him, before turning back to her textbook, as though nothing had ever happened.

“You cannot-!” The stork could feel the cuffs weakening from his wrists bulging due to the fists he was making. He could hardly contain his own strength because of the wayward emotions. He couldn’t allow them to take her away and do who knows what to her in her vulnerable state though. “Leave her be!”

“You know what you have to if you want her to come back safely.” 74 replied without a single care to his increasing fear.

The door had swung shut, closing off his view of Della as she was taken away. His cuffs both snapped with loud clinks and he went to his feet, intending on chasing after to rescue her. 74’s head had shot up with wide eyes of confusion on how he had broken from his restraints easily as he did. Storkules found his vision swimming and his made his coordination completely off however. He stumbled into a wall near him, legs shaking from unusual weakness. “I guess it was a good think the drugs were still running it’s coarse through your system.”

74’s eyes had returned to calm as she approached his exhausted form. He reached out a hand to grab hold of the railing to his own bed, finding himself unable to walk. “W-What have you given me?”

“Oh, only a tranquilizer that includes a heavy dose of Benzodiazepines in your system to make you sleep for over a day; that’s how you ended up here in the first place.” She had approached him while explaining the drugs that he hadn’t the slightest clue about, and hadn’t even expected her to lunge at him to plunge a syringe into his stomach. 

He had stumbled back immediately, allowing the shot to pull of his midriff. The demigod tripped over the end of the bed, falling directly onto his back with a loud gasp of terror. While that had barely fazed him, he could feel a general droziness overwhelming his senses. 74 hovered over him, frown on her face. “You broke the damn syringe! Just like you broke the ducking cuffs! Who even are you?”

He reached out an arm to grab hold of her, to shake the secret of where Della Duck had gone out of her. His hand only reached the rail of his bed, from his spot on the floor, before it flopped back to the ground. He felt as though he had drunk too much of Ithaquack’s prize liquor and felt his vision begin to spin rapidly around him. The demigod gagged once, before his slurring words spilled out to her. “Σε παρακαλώ...που είναι...Πιστεύω ότι είμαι...”

Storkules had rolled his body to his side, the swimming in his stomach unbearable as he lost of the contents of his stomach across the titled floor. His distantly heard a sound of warped disgust in the background. He wanted to wipe the sick away from his bill, yet his hands refused to cooperate. He laid into his back, attempting to not gags against at the smell he had left behind. He couldn’t recall who was near him, but he felt discomfort at the pounding in his head that was steadily overwhelming the senses. His head lolled uselessly as his vision narrowed into a tunnel. 

The last sight he had was that of a closed door on the opposite side of the room and a sense of growing unease.

*

The thumping of booted heels against the metal legs of the hospital chair were heard echoing around the sterile room, banging away in an unusual pattern. The phone in the hands of the young teenager, was being exchanged back and forth nervously. The pair of headphones was blasting an unknown rock alternative song into the ears of the duck. Her head bopped up and down, red hair bouncing in the ponytail pulled back across her head. The large bags underneath her eyes were pronounced by the dark smudges before them. “Why you staring at me?”

Scrooge realized what he had been doing, as the 13-year-old beside him removed one of her headphones. He dropped his eyes to his own phone, taking a peep at the time as he replied. “Er, I was simply thinking about your...about Darkwing.”

Gosalyn nodded her head, eyes exhausted with the concern she felt. “Yeah...I was thinking about Darkwing, too...”

Her voice had been a croak, showcasing how exhausted she was at the early hour of six in the morning. She hadn’t complained once about the fact she had been up all night however, which Scrooge had been surprised about. That had to be nothing compared to Launchpad however. From what he understood, the duck had been awake for three days straight, and refused to allow himself to sleep until Darkwing was no longer in danger. 

Speaking of the pilot, he had returned at that moment with a tray of bowls from the cafeteria, webbed feet stumbling wearily over each other. His hair was disheveled, a strand of it tinged with blood that he hadn’t seemed to care about. Luckily his shirt and jeans had been changed to hospital issue t-shirt and sweats, considering what had happened to his previous set of clothes. He hadn’t seen it, but Gosalyn had shakily whispered that he had been covered in Darkwing’s blood from the incident last night. Scrooge tried not to think about the haunted look in Launchpad’s eyes as he approached them. “Hey...got soup...”

He presented it to the pair and they both stared at him with raised eyebrows. Scrooge eyed Gosalyn, hoping she would be the one to say it, but she continued to stare in silence. Sighing, Scrooge decided to take action. “Lad, there’s no soup in here. And, from the looks of things, you spilt it on the way back.”

The billionaire had pointed at the large spills sloshed along the hallway behind him and Launchpad stared at it with an uncompherheading expression. The tray slipped from his trembling hands, the bowls and utensils clattering to the floor with an echoing noise. The receptionist jolted at the sound and gaped at the scene. Launchpad stared straight ahead at the television set that was tuned off. “I think...I’m gonna...go to sleep.”

He toppled forward lifelessly, immediately falling unconscious as he did so. Gosalyn was mildly concern, leaning forward to see if he was alright. She nudged him with her boot and he snorted out a snore. He grabbed a bowl that he cuddled as though it were a stuffed animal. The 13-year-old called out to the startled receptionist. “It’s ok! He’s just sleeping!”

The receptionist frowned at them, before returning to clicking away at the keys to her computer. Scrooge could feel a sense of relief knowing Launchpad was finally asleep to the world. “I was hoping he would have done it earlier, but at least he’s asleep now. Lad’s been worrying about Darkwing all night.”

Gosalyn was squeezing her phone in a tight grip at the words. He leaned closer to her, ignoring her discomforted expression at the invasion of personal space. “Of course, it seems we all have been.”

Gosalyn relaxed at the words, before bobbing her head at him with tears in his eyes. “I-It’s just...Darkwing is so...He’s amazing and to think that he could...d..d...b-because of me...”

“Lass, it isn’t your fault, I promise you that. Launchpad told me what happened and from the sounds of it, the real culprit here was that-“

A nurse had stepped into the waiting room, voice serious as she called out. “Family of Drake Mallard?”

Scrooge had stood, nodding at her. “Here.”

She frowned at him and Gosalyn, before she raised an eyebrow at the sleeping form of Launchpad. He was sucking his thumb and mumbling in his sleep. She apparently seemed him unimportant, as she turned back to the billionaire with an dubious expression. “Mr. McDuck, I quite frankly find it hard to believe that you are the family of the young man I’m referring to.”

“You see anyone other than us waiting for him at six in the morning?” Scrooge challenged and Gosalyn had a look of wonder dawning on her face at the duck questioning the nurse.

The nurse flicked her eyes across the surprisingly empty waiting room of the hospital, before shaking her head at him. She glanced down at her clipboard and tapped it with a pen. Scrooge thought she would tell them she couldn’t speak about his condition with them. Curiously, her face appeared nearly to pity as she said her next words. “As it appears that we were...unable to receive a willing party to accept our request for their appearance for Mr. Mallard, I suppose this would be the only option we have.” 

“What do you mean by ‘willing party’? Isn’t Mr. Mallard’s mom and dad coming to see him in the hospital?” Gosalyn echoed the internal confusion Scrooge had felt.

The nurse sighed. “The next of kin for Mr. Mallard were his aunt and uncle, who were...quite vocal in their refusal to see him in any state of emergency.”

Gosalyn only continued to look confused by the words, while Scrooge felt a icy grip on his heart at what the words implied. It appeared as though the three in the waiting rooms where the only ones to care about the physical state of the duck in surgery. He cleared his throat, before asking. “How is he then? I hope you’re here to inform us of good news.”

The nurse nodded at him with a grim expression. The billionaire already feared the worse at the moment, but surprisingly received better news than he thought he would. “Mr. Mallard is no longer in surgery is not in danger of losing to his life at this moment in time.”

The awake pair released twin sighs of relief. Gosalyn had swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, tears welling in them again. Scrooge knew Launchpad wouldn’t have fared well if Darkwing had passed. Nor would the young teen that the hero was apparently planning on fostering soon. The relief was visible in her eyes and he was surprised she hadn’t started to sob openly. The billionaire nodded at the nurse’s news. “And, how is his condition right now?”

“Well, quite frankly, Mr. McDuck, it’s honestly a miracle that he had survived long enough to get here, and through the extensive surgery he had to endure.”

Gosalyn’s eyes widened at the words and she shoved her trembling hands into her hoodie. A lone tear rolled down her cheek and the nurse observed this with a face oozing pity. The teen flushed and pulled her hoodie over her head to hide her face from the world. Scrooge knew she still blamed herself, but she couldn’t continue to do so. He needed to pull the attention on her away. “Why do you believe that?”

“Probably because most animals don’t survive a chainsaw being impaled into their stomachs...which myself and the surgeons are still unsure how one can accidentally do...among other inquires that seem hard to pursue without the intent to do so purposely.” The nurse had narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

Scrooge had to stop himself from gasping aloud about the reveal of the main inquiry. He had known the duck was attacked with a chainsaw from the broken words Launchpad had wept, but hadn’t any knowledge it had been directly into the stomach. How he had survived that was a miracle in itself. He swallowed thickly, trying not to sound overwhelmed by the information. “Er, as his boyfriend said, he tripped over a-“

“Oh, I know what he said,” She nodded at Launchpad. “Whenever or not it really happened is a another story all together.”

Gosalyn stepped forward, offering a feeble smile, the only part of her face seen. “I-I mean, Launchpad is really clumsy...always crashing things...always i-im...i-impaling people...”

The nurse’s eyes softened as she observed the distress Gosalyn was attempting to hide. “Honey, I just want to know if someone has tried to hurt your...big brother or not.”

Gosalyn pulled back her hoodie slightly, showing her tearfully confused eyes. “Uh...he...he’s not my brother.”

The nurse frowned. “Are you one of Mr. McDuck’s family members then?”

“I’m...I’m...” The redhead had trailed off, now further distressed.

Poor girl didn’t know what she was in relation to Darkwing, despite what the hero had felt towards her. The billionaire couldn’t leave her floundering, so he intervened quickly. “Er, yes, she’s my niece, Webby.”

The nurse stared at the pair of them and they both offered smiles that attempted to be reassuring. She rolled her eyes after a long moment. “Alright, let’s say that this is your ‘niece, Webby’ then. I just need to actually know who actually shoved a chainsaw into that poor duck’s body, because that is an actual crime. This requires intervention from the police and the only reason I haven’t called yet is because I would like to hear the story about why this actually happened.”

Scrooge thought about how well it would tide over with the citizens of St. Canard that a madman with a chainsaw was loose among them. They already had Darkwing Duck protect them from the lesser villains and more recently the mob boss Tarus Bulba, but someone ferociously wielding a chainsaw was an entirely different story. Especially since it appeared no one knew the villian’s true identity. And, there also came the endangerment of Darkwing’s civilian identity as well. The older duck had a feeling that Darkwing wouldn’t want the world to know that Drake Mallard was a masked vilignate. He was fairly certain that would put a pin in the plan to foster Gosalyn as well. He didn’t know how to make it so there wouldn’t be any further questions about this incident, unless...”I can call them myself to tell truth about the incident, just as we have already to you.”

The nurse looked surprised and frowned at him. “No, I believe I should have the doctor phone them herself.”

The nurse didn’t leave any room for argument and had had left to return to one of the hospital rooms. Scrooge immediately unlocked his phone when she was out of sight to search for Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera’s contact number. Gosalyn was peering over to his phone with a scowl as his finger scrolled. “Who are you calling when we have an issue like this?”

“Someone that can help make it so Darkwing’s identity isn’t revealed to anyone.” He pressed the call button and awaited the lovable inventor to answer the call. 

After a few rings, the groggy voice of Fenton mumbled sleepily into his ear. “Hola...?”

“Fenton, I have a task I need you to complete promptly.”

“Mr. McDuck? Why are you calling me at...” There was a brief pause of the duck checking the time. “...at 6:30 in the morning?”

“I need to know if your mother is at the precinct this morning?”

“Uh, yes, she is. Mama left over an hour ago to head in for work. Do you need to report something?”

“No, I need to prevent the story of a new villain from getting out to the public-“ He whispered into the phone, eyeing the receptionist that appeared to be busy with her work. “-otherwise, it might cause Darkwing’s identity to be in jeopardy.”

“A new villain? Why haven’t I heard-Wait, Darkwing Duck’s? Oh, no! I know how secretive he is about his identity. I don’t even know who he is. I can call Mama though and have her ask if the Lieutenant will be able to request she able to interact with the SCPD, since she’s actually part of the DBPD. It shouldn’t be much of a problem for her to do it though, since the precincts work together all the time.”

“You better get to it soon, lad. They’re going to be making that call soon to have an officer arrive here soon.”

“Whose ‘they’? And where are you? What’s going on, Mr. McDuck?”

“Er...Darkwing has...he’s been in an accident and the hospital is asking questions that make it difficult to keep his identity a secret.”

“What?! The hospital? Doesn’t Launchpad usually patch him up after a fight? How bad is it that he has to go there? That doesn’t sound good at all!” Fenton yelped.

“He’s alright now, Fenton. There isn’t time to go over this at the moment. You need to tell Officer Carbera as quick as you can about the issue at hand. Hurry along now.” Scrooge issued with finality to the hero. 

“Yes, Mr. McDuck! Just give me a few minutes and it will be all figured out.” The call ended from Fenton’s side and Scrooge hoped the duck would make haste. It would be problematic if someone from the force arrived that he wouldn’t be able to convince to let the entire situation drop.

“Mr. McDuck? Who did you call that can help us?” Gosalyn was frowning at him.

“One of my inventor’s mother is an officer on the force in Duckburg that likely could direct attention away from this entire situation.”

“You mean Gizmoduck?”

The billionaire stared at her in bewilderment. “Aye, how did you know?”

The redhead gave him a deadpan expression, before sarcastically answering. “There’s definitely no way that a duck that couldn’t keep a secret to save his life is a superhero.”

She had him there and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder that she could reply with the same level of sarcasm that Louie easily could at any given moment. He allowed that feeling to wash over him, knowing he would likely see her more often now that he knew Darkwing was planning on fostering her. He might as well get used to the feel of pride now. “Aye, you have a point there.”

Her expression appeared startled, before going completely blank. “Uh, yeah...”

“What is it, lass?” Scrooge asked as the pair returned to their seats, her allowing herself to fall bonelessly into one of them.

Her face continued to appear blank, before hesitation creeped in. “...usually most adults don’t really like me having an attitude and being cheeky...”

He raised an eyebrow. “Darkwing and Launchpad feel that way as well, too?”

Gosalyn’s expression brightened. “Launchpad couldn’t give a crap about that! Though, I’m pretty sure it’s also because a lot of my sacaran goes unnoticed by him. And Darkwing just...well, hmm...he’s kinda the same as me sometimes? I’ve learned some pretty good comebacks from him lately, which I’m definitely going to put to good use later.”

The billionaire definitely thought that hero had a strange personality. When he first met him, he assumed Darkwing to be reserved and polite. As he got to knew him better through his efforts to help him become a hero, he realized that was only on the surface. He was confident and bold when he desired to be, but was able to be humble at times as well. Though he didn’t try much to hide it, there were subjects that the duck was obsessive over, including his love for Darkwing Duck. He wasn’t quite certain why the hero went from one extreme to the other, but he didn’t bother to look too far into the personal life. Now that it was becoming apparent that Launchpad was planning on being with long term however, and it was apparent his own blood relatives didn’t care in the least about him, Scrooge decided now was a good time to do so. “Good that they aren’t fussy about your personality, lass.”

The redhead didn’t comment on his words, instead looking mildly peeved. “You can call me Gosalyn you know. I kinda feel like your patronizing me saying ‘lass’ like that. That means little girl doesn’t it?”

Defensive. “Lass can be referring to a young woman as well. And, I call most that are younger than me lass or lad.”

“Still, I would prefer my actual name.” She firmly told him, before popping back in her headphones to end the conversation.

Scrooge could tell that she was a lot as he were when it came to terms of being respected for who he was. He found his hand on her shoulder and her eyes flickering uneasily to the hand resting there. She didn’t pull away, which he received as a good sign. “Shouldn’t be too difficult for me to call you Gosalyn.”

He could see the beginnings of a smile on her bill and he squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. She pulled her hoodie back over her head quickly, but not before he spotted the full smile she unwillingly had made at him calling her by name.  
*

“Bwuh?!” Launchpad cried out as he sat up from the cold title floor below him. Scrooge and Gosalyn startled at the abrupt action from the previously slumbering pilot. He stared at them for a long moment, eyes hazy, before whispering. “...how many cups of sugar does it take to get to the moon?”

Gosalyn snorted at him fondly, while Scrooge raised an eyebrow at the odd question. The younger duck was the one to answer, voice holding back the beginnings of her laughter. “Uhhh, three and a half?”

Launchpad nodded at her, as though she had given him the answer to the universe, and flopped back over into a dead sleep instantly. There was a brief pause of silence, before Scrooge and Gosalyn exploded into uncontrollable laughter. The receptionist stared at the two ducks crying from how hard they were crying, before smiling to see that a family in a waiting room of the hospital was experiencing a joyful moment in a serious time of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to begin with an apology for not updating as long as I have. I reached a writer’s block on how I wanted the chapter to go for what I wanted to have happen. Which then ended up being a short break from the story that wasn’t planning on having.
> 
> Secondly, I would like to get into how I’m presenting Storkules this chapter. He’s by no means weak in any sense and could have easily used his strength to escape this if he were alone. However, there are considerations to think about. Like how he knew revealing the fact that he was immortal would endanger Della, so he decided to pretend as though he couldn’t do the feats that he could. This chapter though, when he finally decided to hell with it, the drugs in his system were impending control over his body. 
> 
> Also, I hope I did Gosalyn justice for an aged up version I did of her. Yes, she’s still rambunctious, and I will be showing more that later on, but for now I thought it would be soportar to keep it muted considering the situation. This is a world that Darkwing didn’t meet her until a few months ago and the events of Tarus Bulba happened only a week and a half ago.
> 
> Translations: “Σε παρακαλώ...που είναι...Πιστεύω ότι είμαι...”  
“Please...where is...I think I am...”
> 
> Kudos to you if you understand the “A Goofy Movie” reference.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of blood in the beginning scene and the one involving the tomb.

There was a sharp pain across her cheek, the reverberate of it ringing in her head. Her vision was whited out when her eyes first snapped open. There was briefly nothing, before the scene was unreliability revealed into between the blotches of white. She was in a dark room, a lone light hanging above her. The pain throbbed in her cheek and she could feel a deep ache in her abdominal walls. The duck realized she was lying down in a bed and that her arm was in a sling. “...the hell...?”

A pair of figures emerged from seemingly nowhere, both clad in what appeared to be a type of guard uniform she had never seen before. The dogs loomed over her sternly. Della could feel her face heating up in anger when she thought about how she had awoken. “Did one of you just ducking slap me?”

She went to raise her uninjured arm to touch her smarting face, only to find it handcuffed to the bed. The duck stared at it for a full five seconds, before it occurred what the situation she was in. She glanced down to the wrappings on her chest, noticing that whatever drugs had been in her system were rapidly fading and the pain from her wound was increasing. “Ummm, you guys are about to do something worse than a slap, aren’t you?”

The dog-a Rottweiler-stared at her with a straight face as he answered. “Not if you tell us who you truly are and why you’re here.”

Della paused for a moment, attempting to recall what her pained riddled brain had come up with previously. The other dog-a German Shepard- leaned in close to her beside, voice a hiss. “Do not make either of us repeat the question.”

Della knew this wasn’t precisely the best situation to do this in, but she couldn’t allow this fiend to threaten her like that. “Believe me, I don’t want to smell your breath longer than necessary.”

German pulled back from her and raised his hand, backhanding her hard enough that her head snapped to the side with a cry involuntarily releasing from her bill. Part of it had been from the pain of the action, the other part from her body clenching, aggravating her wounds toturishly. Her bill flapped uselessly for a moment, before she noticed the Rottweiler now was on the opposite side of her bed. He reached out, clunching her broken arm. She yelped and pulled her body away as best as she could from him. The dog thankfully released after a moment. “Last warning: what is your name and why are you here?”

Della panted, eyes scrunching shut, until the wave of agony faded. Her eyelids fluttered as they opened back up, temporarily blinded by the single light above. She gulped and nodded her head slowly at them. “I-I think I told your friends already, but I’m Isabella Finch the Second, and I-“

The Rottweiler raised his fist with no hesitation and bashed it against the wound underneath her ribcage. She couldn’t make a single noise from the shock of it and allowed the darkness to overshadow her. The relief didn’t last a single moment however, as she was suddenly being shaken awake by the guards. “I-I...y-you...s-s-shit...”

“What is your friend’s name?”

Della didn’t even care who asked the question, because she could hardly remember where she was in the first place. She just knew that she was in pain and for whatever reason Storkules was missing, despite the fact that she knew they needed each other for Hera’s mission. There was metallic taste she noted on her tongue and could feel that her mouth had an overload of liquid inside. The German was the closet to her and she took the opportunity to spat out her mouthful of blood into his face. “S-Screw you!”

A brief stint of silence passed, before he wiped the blood off of his face, fury etched across each feature of it. The pair were suddenly wailing on her as hard as they could. Della Duck couldn’t remember her name after a few minutes.  
*

“-of course, you are an adult, that doesn’t want to be treated as anything other. Yet, here you are with Scrooge treating you as such. It’s understandable why you are struggling with your interactions with him as of late.” The therapist concluded, scribbling away a note on his clipboard, maintaining eye contact with Donald.

The duck huffed in frustration and slouched in his seat. “And, he’s always going to! I can do the things I could do before and as usual he doesn’t think I can do a damn thing!”

“Have you actually considered that receiving his help doesn’t involve his lack in faith with you? Perhaps he only wishes for you to be safe and this was his way of keeping you as such.”

“Even if that is true, I’m always feeling as though he doesn’t view me as anything but a child. Uncle Scrooge has been like that for as long as I can remember and no amount of me telling him this changes that. He wouldn’t even let me drive here on my own! I’ve already done it once with one leg and can definitely do it again. And, pretty soon I’ll have my prosethic, so it should be even less of a problem then. I get the feel he’s still going to try coddling me though.”

“Have you considered his specific reasoning as to why he wants you so desperately safe?”

Donald rolled his eyes. “I already know it’s because he’s worried about my well being, but how many more times do I have to prove that I’m more than capable of handling myself. It almost feels like he’s worse than ever when it comes to that.”

“Perhaps he’s become more involved in that aspect, in an attempt to make up for what he felt wasn’t enough of an attempt in the past to do that.”

“Did...did he tell you that?” The sailor felt the anger drain from him at once, fidgeting at the idea of the billionaire confessing that to the therapist.

The therapist’s face didn’t change in the least. “You know that I’m not allowed to disclose what I have spoken about to your uncle. I am trying to make you expand your viewpoint past your anger however. Speaking of that, how is your anger management going?”

Donald shrugged, glad about the subject change. He was beginning to be reminded of Avalon. “The same as always. I’m given the means to channel it for my family and I’m able to hold my temper more in general.”

“That’s good that it continues to work. And, how does your other therapist feel about you seeing me?”

“Jones feels like you’re better equipped to handle the stuff he can’t. He’s more militant trained, so he knows how to react to that. The military was actually the one to suggest him to me when I reached out for help.”

“Yes, I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t be able to properly deal with that side of patients, considering that I’m educated as a family therapist. I do have education in trauma, just more of everyday events, not involving war.”

“Yeah, I know....” The duck trailed off, palms feel sweaty, voice going meek. 

“What is it, Donald? You look nervous. Is there something that you wanted to discuss in particular at the moment?”

He opened his bill and then closed it immediately. The therapist didn’t push as Donald’s adam apple bobbed frantically. He could feel the sticky sweat underneath his feathers and his voice came out in a whisper. “...I have a...secret I never told anyone.”

“Do you want to tell me it?” The therapist was a step above whispering himself, not wanting to spoke his patient. Donald was trembling and he clutched the arms of his chairs. “If you don’t think you can at the moment, we can discuss another topic at this time.”

“No...I...need to tell someone, I can’t just...” He bowed his head, feel a trickle of anxious sweat roll down his bill. He didn’t have just one secret, he had many. This one had been pressing for some time though and he knew he needed to release some of the trauma behind that topic soon. The dreams about it had begun to return and he didn’t know how long it would be until the nightmares made a comeback.

“Donald, if this is causing you-“

“Do you know the Duck Avenger?” The sailor blurted out suddenly.

He nodded gently at the question. “Yes, the vigilante that occupied this city a number of years ago...I believe I was a young man then, still going for my degree at the time that he made headlines.”

“I...I...” He couldn’t breathe.

“Donald, you’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone, which is good in most cases, but your showing symptoms of an anxiety attack. Perhaps it would be best to slowly edge our way into the topic of what this is about.”

“N-No! I-I need to...t-tell...as-someone...” He trailed off, unable to properly produce the words he wanted to. His throat and chest were tight. A vice was surrounding his ribcage, crushing it. Almost like that time in-There were harsh pants erupting from his bill. He felt an insane urge to lash out, shout at the therapist for not allowing him to speak the way he wanted to.

“Donald, I would like you to look at me please,” The duck’s eyes darted up uncertainly. “I want you to inhale deeply, can you do that?”

He was shaking his head, unable to do so, and a sense of panic was starting to cloud his mind. Why couldn’t he breathe? What if he could never breathe again? He had thought that in Avalon, so who was to say he couldn’t feel like that, again? Why was the therapist standing so close to him now? The doctor in question squatted in front of him, eyes kind. “Donald, you can breathe, I promise you that. You’re panicking, so it’s making it difficult for your body to respond the way you want it to. Can you exhale at least?”

Donald found the air leaving his bill in rush. He didn’t have much to let out though, which was causing him to believe he couldn’t do much else. The panic was overshadowing his mind and he felt out of control. The doctor inhaled deeply across from him, his hand squeezing Donald’s arm gently. His lungs felt so shriveled up, then he suddenly felt air enter his lungs, before he was hyperventilating. “See? You’re breathing now. Not really the way you should I must say, but least you’re breathing.”

Donald snorted out a choked noise and he covered his bill with a hand. He noticed a moment later that he halted hyperventilating when the therapist had cracked a joke and shakily inhaled much slowly this time around. “See, much better now. I am concerned that you put yourself in that position in the first place though. Donald, if you’re not ready to talk about that issue we can attempt to do so again next session.”

“No...I need to...at least, I have to say that...t-that...” He couldn’t let the words spill out, despite the desire to do so. He clamped his bill shut, staring down at his lap silently with tears blurring his vision.

“Donald, there’s no need to be harsh with yourself. When you’re ready to share, you’ll be able to say what you want to. Instead, we can talk about whatever other topic you desire. In fact we can discuss a number of other topics...”

The reassuring voice faded off and Donald retreated inside his own head, furious at himself. He and the therapist didn’t make much progression after the topic had passed.  
*

Scrooge glowered at yet another car that had sped up to bypass him, the driver shouting at him to speed up. He growled underneath his breath with furrowed eyebrows. “Those no good neds, always living life in the fast lane...”

Donald rolled his eyes at the words, knowing that Uncle Scrooge wasn’t aware that he had even heard him in the first place. It had been awhile since he had heard his uncle call someone that. The duck stared out the window exhaustedly as the city passed by rapidly, the Jeep speeding along the freeway at a pace much slower than the other vehicles blazing past them. Donald knew for a fact his uncle hated to drive and insisted that everyone else was always going faster than he was for no true reason. The younger duck knew he could have gotten them home by now, yet here they were with cars honking at them, drivers yelling out their windows to drive faster.

“Where are we going?” The sailor asked, as he realized they were taking an exit they usually didn’t, a small part of him thankful to get away from the furious citizens of Duckburg.

“To the office. I need to resolve a detail with the Board about the latest quarter’s revenue.” He simply replied and Donald nearly bashed his head into the window beside him from hearing those words. All he wanted to do by this point was return home, as his session had taken a lot out of him today.

“Why do I have to come along, Uncle Scrooge?”

“It was on the return to the mansion. Hardly makes a lick of sense for me to return you home, and then drive back over this direction, now does it?” The building for McDuck Enterprises came into view as he approached the road leading up to it, the rush hour to work having finally finished off for the morning.

“Uncle Scrooge, I just want to go home.” He complained, shaking his head as they got closer.

The billionaire began to pull into the parking garage next to the building. He rolled his eyes at his nephew as they approached the security booth. “Lad, you’re acting like you’re five-years-old. You don’t have to come in, but I might be awhile.”

Scrooge nodded at the guard that waved him through and he headed to his reserved parking space at the top floor of the complex. Donald frowned at him in annoyance and slanted light from the open aired garage spilling across the dashboard. “Why don’t I just drive myself home and come back for you when you’re finished?”

“You know good and well, lad, why I’m hesitant to allow you to do that.” Scrooge pulled into the preferred space, the wheels ending up drastically over the white line on the driver’s side. He frowned as he realized what he had done, reversing the car to angle it better.

Donald crossed his arms over his chest angrily. “I’m not a child, Uncle Scrooge. I can drive myself home. I already drove Launchpad back the other day with no problems!”

“Which you should have not done! You can’t accurately control the brakes and acceleration with one leg!” His uncle protested, as he went over the line even further than before. He growled to himself, backing up a bit quicker in agitation to make a parking attempt once more. “And, you haven’t driven regularly in over a year! What if you forget?”

“Uncle Scrooge, this is the first time you’ve driven in years, and you at least remember what to do! You’re just making up excuses, because you don’t think I can handle it, just like everything else you don’t think I can handle in my life!” 

“I don’t think you can handle this, because ever since you returned-“ Too far over the line. Reverse. “-you’ve been completely and absolutely unhinged, and I’m concerned you’re going to do something that’s quite frankly reckless and stup-“

The car lunged forward with no warning into the reserved sign in front of them and the Jeep released a crunch noise from the front end. Their bodies strained against the seatbelts as it locked them tightly into place and at nearly the same moment the airbags activated. Donald yelped in surprise at the action, feeling pain bloom in chest from the action. Scrooge cursed loudly, his hat flying over the headrest to the backseat, and his vision fracturing as the airbags cracked his glasses. 

They both sat there, heaving furiously at what had happened only moments before. Suddenly Donald screamed, punching at the airbags, as they begun to deflate themselves. He pushed his aside and began to fumble with his seatbelt buckle as though he were a caged animal. His voice was punicated with his burning fury. “Let me out of this piece of-!”

Scrooge silently reached over, pressing the release button for the seatbelt. Donald flung open the door and screamed out with a shattering echo into the parking garage. The billionaire flinched at the painful noise. Donald collapsed back into the passenger seat. His voice was weary as he spoke. It was as though a light switch had been turned off, the change being so abrupt. “...if I was the one parking, I would have gotten it on the first try, and the car wouldn’t have crashed.”

Scoorge reached up to remove his broken glasses, recalling the pair he kept in the middle storage space near the manual gear shift. He popped it open and pulled out one of his extra eyeglass cases, placing his undamaged pair on his face. His tossed his broken ones over his shoulder to the backseat without a care. It wasn’t the first time his glasses had broken and it definitely wouldn’t be the last from the lifestyle he had. The billionaire turned his gaze to his nephew, who had hunched over with an arm placed protectively over his chest. He felt a jolt of fear at the sight, voice coming out tight. “Are you alright, Donald?”

“...pretty sure the airbags just bruised me, but I’m mostly just...” He didn’t finish the sentence and shrugged. “You didn’t get hurt, right?”

“...thought my glasses were about to shatter in my eyes, so I shut them. They only broke a wee bit though...” Scrooge attempted to desern if he felt any pain. He could only feel the adrenaline, and a distant memory of another time Donald clutched at his ribcage making his heart beat wildly though. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, it’s just some bruising from the airbags. Kinda feels like that time at the Temple of Ra, when that one trap slammed me into the wall.” A giant wooden beam had come from the ceiling, causing a 15-year-old Donald to harshly fly into a stone wall across the room.

Scrooge snorted. “We had to cancel the entire expedition, all because I thought you had broken your ribs. You’re lucky they weren’t, like how they were after what happened in Ava-“

The billionaire had snapped his bill shut, swallowing compulsively. Donald felt his heart drop as he realized what Scrooge was referring to. He could feel his own throat going dry. “...you...you know, what happened the first time around with my ribs at Avalon, wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t do anything to help me and we both know it. If you tried, you would have got hurt, too.”

“Aye...we already established that years ago...but, I should have paid more attention to your state of mind...just as I should have for the past few days. I should have noticed sooner that I was smothering you with my protection, even though you don’t need me to at all.” Scrooge confessed with a sigh.

Donald stared at him in surprise, unaware that he would actually apologize for the problem. He shouldn’t had been however, as it was apparent the duck had changed since Donald had been stuck on the island for a year. He was continuing to base his interactions off of an outdated version of his uncle, instead of the current one that sat before him. After a long moment, watching the hesitation creeping into Uncle Scrooge’s face, he finally responded. “...I was angry that you were treating me like I couldn’t do anything. Just because I’m...I’m...having a hard time lately, doesn’t mean I’m not capable.”

“I realize that, lad. That was a mistake in thinking you couldn’t and I want to say that I am sorry for doing so.”

Donald stared at him feel a lump in his throat. He nodded frantically, before turning his gaze to his lap. His voice was a whisper, barely heard in the broken vehicle. “...thank you for apologizing, Uncle Scrooge.”

“...you’re welcome, Donald...” There was brief pause as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, removing his keys from the ignition. The driver’s door creaked open and there was another moment of hesitation that made Donald look back up at his still sitting uncle. His voice begged. “Come inside, please...I know you said that it was just a bruise, but I...worry that it might be more.”

Scrooge’s face was neutral as he said this, but his eyes betrayed the concern he had for his nephew. Donald knew exactly why, knew exactly why the fear for his personal safety seemed to plague the billionaire throughout the years. While the sailor had been the one to typically become injured on their adventures, due to the bad luck that stalked Donald, the day at Avalon was what seemed to cement that fear in Scrooge’s mind...  
*

“Hey, Uncle Scrooge, look at this inscription I found!” The 13-year-old duck was crouched in front of a statue of a athletic lion, his dignified expression allowing a hint of a smile to shine through. His sword was raised into the air, the gleaming pillar catching the light through a crack of sunshine from the ceiling. “What do you think it says?”

Scrooge turned away from another statue of what was clearly the legendary wizard Merlin. He crouched beside his younger niece, frowning as he realized the inscription for the obvious statue of the great King Arthur was in the same unreadable language as Merlin’s inscription. “Hmmm, I’m not quite certain, but I appears to be a type of Celtic language. It would make the most sense for the time period.”

“Is this King Arthur? It kinda looks like the descriptions of him.” Della mused, tilting her head at it.

“Aye, that it is. The Great King of Britain that protected against the Saxon invaders in his land.” Scrooge confirmed as they both stood to observe the other statues scattered throughout the room. “An odd tomb this is though. Most final resting locations don’t have dedications to all of those important in one’s life. This seems to be an entire room just for that. It seems everyone of noteworthy importance in the stories surrounding him is in here.”

“Don, do you think they have-?” She had whirled around, expecting to find her brother behind her, only to realize the lingering silence had indicated that he was gone. “Uhh, where’s Donald?”

Scrooge frowned, his grip tight on his flashlight held in his left hand. He glanced around the room, expecting to find him lingering by one of the statues nearby, but couldn’t spot him anywhere. “That’s odd; not really like the lad to wander off like that...Donald? Donald, where are you lad?”

He thought he saw movement in a darkened corner of the room, the sunshine not even beginning to reach that area. The older duck cautiously stepped closer to flash his light in that direction he thought he saw it from. He had led in front of Della, knowing she would foolishly charge forward at the first thought that adventure lurked in that direction if he didn’t do so. “Donald? What are you doing over there?”

The figure of Donald was revealed from behind, a short distance away, a lone statue looming before him. He felt the tension leave his body and he shook his head in irritation at the wayward duck. “What in dismal downs are you doing over here, lad? Whose statue did you find?”

Della stepped around Scrooge without a care and approached Donald to tap his shoulder. The duck jolted in surprise, as though he wasn’t expecting his twin to appear beside him. Scrooge stood behind the pair, frowning as Donald shakily pushed his overgrown bangs out of his left eye. The younger duck only scowled at Della, as though she was the bane of his existence. “What do you want, Del?”

Della raised an eyebrow at him. “Just want to know what you were so into that you didn’t respond to our calls about?”

“Aye, not really like you to do that. What made you disappear on us, Donald?” He flashed the light upwards, revealed the ethereal beauty of a black cat, her thick locks fallen past her hips, a loose fitting robe cloaking her figure from them. “Now, whose this? And, why is she alone in the corner here?”

“She looks kinda angry,” Della studied the facial features and then smirked at her brother. “Kinda like you do all the time, Don.”

She expected for him to snap back at her, to throw one of his temper tantrums due her teasing words. He had returned to stare at the statue though, as though he was entranced by the presence of it. Scrooge raised an eyebrow at his nephew, clearing his throat. “Lad, we should continue on, if we want to enter the tomb chamber by dusk.”

“...Morgan Le Fay.” Donald’s voice was a hush, as though he didn’t dare raise his voice in the slightest for the power it held with it

“That evil witch that wanted to overthrow King Arthur?” Della studied the statue suspiciously.

“That was for a brief time in history, lass. There’s actually a lot of controversy to her story though. Some say she was his greatest enemy, while others said she was his closest adversary. And, Morgan Le Fay was the one to bring King Arthur to his final resting place here in Avalon, so she was in favor of his rule towards the end.”

“...weird...” Della mumbled to herself, she had begun to head to the hallways leading out of the statue chamber. 

“Della, wait there by the entrance for a moment. Don’t you wandering into any traps without me now,” She called back an inattentive confirmation at his words, while he waved along Donald to join them. “Come along now. Della isn’t going to wait forever you know.”

Donald observed his uncle drifting away from the room. He glanced at the statue one last time. He followed after Scrooge a moment later, attempting to remove the strange empathy he felt towards Morgan Le Fay, and how the world viewed her. He couldn’t help but feel a type of kinship for her in a way. Perhaps she had been the most greatly misunderstood figure in legends and history that he knew of...

It was discovered, of course, Della had ventured further than she was supposed to, and was already half way down the hall when the pair arrived. Scrooge frowned at her, but didn’t say a world about her disobeying his words. Donald shouldn’t have been surprised in the least about that. His uncle called after her as they rushed to catch. “Slow down, lass, I’m not as young as I used to be-“

There was a distinct clink as her foot slunk into a tile on the floor. There was hardly a moment that had passed, before Scrooge screamed frantically out into the hallway in warning. “RUN!”

They all scattered immediately, with Della heading down further to the end of the hallway in a full out sprint. The ceiling had begun to sink at a rapid pace, to surely crush them into a fine powder. Scrooge and Donald has headed the other direction, with the older duck accidentally loosing their source of light as his hands fumbled with the flashlight, before losing it. It was apparent between the two that Scrooge was faster, running not being Donald’s strongpoint at that point in his life. They were nearly at the end of the hallway, when the younger duck tripped over a piece of rumble, while the ceiling skimmed across the top of Scrooge’s head.

The billionaire lunched forward desperately, as the ceiling began to press against him, landing face first into the titles floor in a safe area. He panted laboriously into the ground, tasting dirt on his tongue. He sat up a moment later, laughing breathlessly at the alive feeling he had in his heart. “Ha! Nothing can stop the McDucks from escaping the...Donald?”

The older duck looked wildly around the room, the sound of the ceiling continuing to journey to the floor being heard, when he realized what had happened to nephew. He was on his feet in an instant, watching the moving ceiling become low enough that Donald would definitely not be able to stand. “Donald?! Lad, are y-“

“Uncle Scrooge!” He heard his nephew cry in fear and he crouched down to see him laying on his back, hands raised to press up against the ceiling, as though he believed that could help him the dangerous situation.

His heart rate spiked at the sight and he felt his webbed feet frozen in place. “Donald! You need to crawl! You need to rollover and crawl back to me! Hurry!”

Donald was trembling wildly, as his arms began to bend at the elbows, the ceiling no longer allowing them to be straight. His fingernails were scratching at the surface, arms straining as he pushed against the ruthless movement. “I-I can’t! I-I’m going to be-“

“Now! Donald, do it-“ He couldn’t speak any longer as he realized his nephew was about to be crushed to death in front of his very eyes. He was now laying on the floor himself, realizing he had wasted time just shouting at him. He could have crawled inside himself to rescue Donald, but now there wasn’t enough room for the idea to even work out. “For-oh my God-Donald!”

The younger duck had his hands pressed against the ceiling until the very last moment, Donald weeping loudly from inside the empty tomb, it being Donald’s just as much as it was King Arthur’s in that last moment. Scrooge’s hand was over his bill, a choking noise being released as he realized that Donald was about to die.

Suddenly the ceiling ceased movement and for a moment, there were only the cries of despair from Donald, and Scrooge’s heaving breathes at the noise. The ceiling began to retreat back to where it belonged, revealing Donald’s tiny, fragile body laying in the middle of the floor. Scrooge was racing across the stone ground in an instant, screaming out his nephew’s name in terror. He fell to his knees beside Donald’s, his hands hovering over the form of the traumatized 13-year-old. “Donald-bless me bagpipes- you’re-“

“-found out how to make the ceiling go back to-” His head shot up as he heard Della approach, who was jogging causally in their direction. The smile of confidence on her face faded the moment she saw that they were on the floor and she was suddenly going at a mad dash at them. Her voice was hot pitched from her horror, hot tears swelling in her eyes.“Oh my god, oh my god, Don!”

As he watched the younger duck injured curl up on his side, arms curled protectively around his ribcage, blood sluggishly oozing from his bill, Scrooge knew that he needed to get his nephew to the emergency room immediately. “D-Don’t worry, lad, w-we’re going to get y-you-“

A tiny hand clung to the front of his coat weakly, blood dripping across the floor from Donald’s open bill. “H-Hurts...”

By the time Della had returned to Scrooge’s side, the older duck had scooped up Donald, squeeze him tight to his chest. She stared at him, eyes wide, tears rolling down her cheeks at the sight of her unconscious, and broken twin lying limply in Scrooge’s arms. “Oh my god-I-I stepped o-on-“

Scrooge knew exactly what she had done, because she had disobeyed his orders as she usually did. Only, this time their were consequences to her actions. He didn’t focus on what had happened though, only how to make sure Donald would survive long enough for medical help. He was already sprinting for the exit, not caring if he ever returned to Avalon in the least. Not caring if the tomb of King Arthur would forever remain uncharted, if it meant Donald would live.  
*

Donald found himself nodding at his uncle, already twisting around with a hiss of pain to reach into the backseat of the Jeep for his crutches. Scrooge shut the driver’s door as he exited, heading around to the passenger door for Donald to pass the crutches to him. The sailor stood and used the door to steady himself. Scrooge returned the crutches to his possession, allowing him to move away, before shutting the car door behind him.

The pair went side by side into the building, Scrooge already thinking about how he would have to have an autoshop return his Jeep to it’s former glory. Donald, meanwhile, tried not to be bothered by the various employees of McDuck Enterprises openly starring at his missing leg. Their expressions held varying degrees of pity and confusion at the sight. His uncle seemed too consumed in his own thoughts to notice the stares and Donald simply pretended he didn’t notice them at all. He wouldn’t acknowledge the faces of strangers that only wanted a good gossip story. 

They entered an elevator, Donald eyeing the huge stack of papers covering the face of an unknown employee beside Scrooge. He hoped this one wouldn’t be giving him a face he didn’t want as well. He had no escape from it, as it seemed they were heading to one of the top floors like they were. The doors shut and the elevator resumed it ascent. The employee made a noise that sounded displeased and Scrooge turned to them sharply. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said-“ The pile of papers shifted to the side, to reveal the face of Daisy Duck, who appeared vexed by their appearance. “-nice of you to finally show your face, Mr. McDuck.”

“What is that supposed to mean now?” Scrooge scowled at her grumpy expression.

“Just that you were supposed to come by days ago, and I’ve been having to handle all of your paperwork, that the Board continues to give over to me, and all the meetings I’ve had to struggle to reschedule, since you haven’t been around to entertain the other greedy capitalists that you insist on dining with.”

“And, as everyone in this company, yourself including Miss Duck, knows I had to take a leave of absence for these pass few days, due to family affairs. And, I’ve told you to cancel on many of the ones that insisted on meeting with me to propose a business proposition. Especially that Beaks fellow.”

Daisy glowered at the billionaire and Donald felt himself sag against his crutches as he realized this was worse than the idea of pity. “You never told me any of that! I’ve been here for a week and I’ve had nobody to help me with anything! The Board refused to even give me a direction to go, as I’m but a lowly receptionist for the one and only Scrooge McDuck!”

“Which is a position you blackmailed me into granting you! You have what you want, so why are you complaining about your workload! It was the only open position I had at the moment.”

“I can definitely see as to why! This is impossible for any one animal to do, especially when her employer hadn’t provided any specific directions!”

“I left you a message, by the telephone-“

“There wasn’t anything there! I’ve been at the desk for days, so I would known if one had been there or not-“

“Would you two stop fighting already?!” Donald was about ready to rip his own feathers from his head from the yelling match the pair had gotten in. “This is why I didn’t want to come in!”

“Oh, so you wanted to avoid me, despite it being Mr. McDuck’s fault yet again for all of this?” She seethed at him, eyes narrowed.

Donald rolled his eyes at her in return. “No, because you’re always wanting to start something with Uncle Scrooge! Which he wouldn’t have to even deal with, if you didn’t threaten him with-“

“What, calling the police when you went haywire on my previous employer’s place of work?”

Donald snapped his bill shut, knowing that she had actually prevented him from yet again beginning banded from another building in town, due to his overwhelming anger. He was lucky that Scrooge had fully paid for all damages Donald had incurred in the past, as the sailor could have faced actual jail time for his rampages with interference. In fact, Scrooge had a deal with the city that as long as nobody was killed and if all damage fees from any incidents connected to him were paid off, the billionaire wouldn’t be in trouble. That went from anything from Launchpad’s poor driving to the adventures that released evil forces into the city of Duckburg due to Scrooge’s involvement. 

There were only one orthotic clinic in the city however. Scrooge definitely didn’t want Donald to get banned from that location, which is why the older duck had allowed the receptionist to do what she had done. In a way, he was grateful that Daisy had convinced her employer not to ban him from the clinic he desperately needed, making up a story about a rogue patient she didn’t recognize causing the disturbance instead. He however despised her attitude and how she seemed to continue to egg on his uncle, for an viable reason.

“Whatever!” Donald snapped back at her, staring maddeningly at the digital floor numbers that changed before his eyes as the elevator rose.

“That’s what I thought.” She snipped back at him.

He saw red in his vision immediately at the haughty attitude and his crutches were gripped tight enough that they creaked in protest. “Why I outta-“

Scrooge had stepped in between the two, his cane pressing into Donald’s stomach to halt him from advancing. “Lad, leave it be. She isn’t worth your time to be this angry.”

The elevator dinged their arrival as the doors slid open to reveal a new floor. Daisy exited, her heels clicking as she did so. She turned around, the pile of papers balancing on her hips as she held them strategically in place. The duck sniggered at the pair, voice provoking. “I think it’s more that you’re not worth my time actually, Mr. Duck.”

As the doors began to slide close, Donald sprung forward, face etched in fury, before the doors shut on him. She heard the angry quacking and a loud banging as she strutted away from the scene. After a certain distance, the vain expression on her face dropped. She used her back to push open the door to a filing room nearby. The stack of papers were released onto a table in the expansive room with a slammed noise. She hummed to herself a tune as the filing cabinet closet to her opened with a flick of her hand.

Daisy began to place the top of the pile into true conospounding location, before sighing wearily at the task she had ahead of her. “By the time I finish this I’m not getting home until late again it seems.”

Daisy tapped her lime green fingernails against the cabinet she stood in front of, before pulling out her cellphone. She typed out a quick message, before sending it. She stared at the time, planning out her dinner break ahead of time. It seemed as though the coffee shop down the road would have to do once again that night. She continued to stare at it blankly, before opening the Photos app. She scrolled down, before finding the picture she wanted. 

She stared at the three young ducks that were squeezed in close together for a selfie, the one in question taking it with a large purple bow in her hair, bangs covering one of her eyes. The one to the left of her had a pink bow holding up her ponytail, bangs completely covering her forehead. The one to the right had a yellow on a headband, her hair parted in the middle. The duck stared at it for a long moment, before nodding. “I know I can do this...it’s just really hard to when I’m working for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a reason why we have “Donald Duck needs a hug” as a tag, because this chapter is just an angst feast for him, isn’t it?
> 
> As far as folklore goes, Avalon is on the Isle of Apples, and is said to be the place where Excalibur was forged, and the final resting place of the legendary King Arthur. In the stories as well, Morgan Le Fay was said to reside there, and was supposedly was King Arthur’s half-sister. She had been the one to bring King Arthur to Avalon in hopes of saving him from fatal wounds in his final fight. Morgan Le Fay supposedly used her magic to shroud Avalon from the outside world, so I thought it was definitely something Scrooge McDuck would love to discover. I also thought it would in character for Della to be interested in King Arthur, while Donald seemed to be more invested in Morgan Le Fay, since it lined up with them personality wise.
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos, and comments. They’re always a joy to read and definitely keep my motivation as an author going. See you next time!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All trigger warnings will be in the summary here! If there is only a quote from the chapter, then there is no trigger warnings.
> 
> The main warning is slight Webby/Dewey.

By the time the sun rose, the discussion on where Storkules and Della had been whisked away to had gone off the rails entirely. This was empathized by the corkboard Webby stood before, featuring pictures of locations and individuals possibly involved pined to it. Several red strings were connected to one other, to ensure the possible relationships of the situation. The 12-year-old duck was tying another string to a blurry picture of a familiar creature. Her voice sounded unhinged, volume raised louder than necessary. “...but, hear me out...it’s the Mole people!”

“Oh for the love of-Webby, we already know the Mole people didn’t do it! They’re clearly a peaceful race, that only want to live their underground ways!” Huey countered with bloodshot eyes, appearing just as unbalanced she was.

“I think I have to agree for once with Huey on this; what would even be their point of abducting Mom and Storkules?” Louie added in, his eyes half closed, voice barely above a mumble.

“The point is-the point is-!” Webby deflated from her ramblings and sighed loudly. She hung her head and shook it slowly. “...no, no...you guys are right...the Mole people are innocent...”

“You guys, we’ve been talking all night...Can we just go to sleep now?” Louie whined, burying his face into his hands.

Webby looked over to Dewey, whom was sitting in the open windowsill, staring at the pale moonlight washing over the massive lawn outside. He had oddly been quiet for most of the night, clearly distracted by whatever thoughts had consumed since they begun this hours ago. She nervously cleared her throat. “Dewey, uh, are you alright?”

Dewey jolted to attention at his name. The duck shook his head when he realized who was speaking to him, a silent demeanor taking hold. Webby laughed nervously at his behavior, exhausted from her lack of sleep. Louie groaned loudly and began to stand, swaying briefly as he did so. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m about ready to pass out. I honestly think Mom will be alright on her own for awhile. She’s with a literal God right now. What’s the worse that could happen?”

“The Junior Woodchuck guidebook says you should never think that, because then the worse could happen. In fact, those that believe that circumstances can-“ Huey had begun recite to Louie who groaned at his brother’s antics. 

“I’m too tired to even pretend to listen right now, dude. I don’t even know how you can even think straight after how long we’ve been up!” Huey had begun to follow along with his brother in the green hoodie, the pair heading to the hallway. 

“I’m obviously tired enough and you should know that since this is the first time in at least an hour that I’ve brought up Woodchucks! Furthermore, the fact that you even...“ Huey’s explanation trailed off as they disappeared from the doorway, voice no longer able to carry to Dewey’s and Webby’s ears.

“I thought we decided they were both in danger! We need to get down to the truth about this! We need to-“ Webby plopped down into a beanbag near the corkboard, expression defeated. “Ah, forget it.”

The other two ducks had been left alone. During an awkward silence, Webby twiddled her thumbs and eyed Dewey silently. He wasn’t even looking in her direction however as he suddenly stood and headed over to the board with an intense stare. He reached out to move the pin of Darkwing Duck to the Mole people in a questionable suggestion between the two. She didn’t dare ask, as she barely could muster up the courage to approach him on another topic entirely. “Uh, Dewey?”

He made a humming noise of acknowledgement to her. Webby waited for more of answer from him, before she would think about an attempt to receive his attention once more. Her patience was rewarded when he finally turned to her. “Yeah?”

She could hear the weary tone in his voice and she felt herself flush with vexation. He had been ignoring her for days and this is how he treats her? Even though she shouldn’t have, Webby found herself snapping at him. “Why’ve you been avoiding me?”

A look of guilt flashed in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the board. His voice cracked as he replied in a hi-pitched tone of being caught red handed. “I-I’m not avoiding you!”

She could see the blush rise on his cheeks at his own childish tone he refused to acknowledge. Webby wasn’t usually one to lose her temper so easily, but she was exhausted after a night of conspiracy theories, and worried about his erratic behavior lately. The words erupted with no warning or any control on her own part. “Yes, you are! You’ve been avoiding me since we kissed in the woods!”

If possible his blush darkened and his feathers around his cheeks bristled. She couldn’t understand what was going through his mind. The 13-year-old had definitely been embarrassed directly before their kiss had happened, but was anything but shy once they had begun. It made no sense to Webby. “Have you been avoiding me because you’re embarrassed by us kissing?”

“No, of course not-I just-yes, I mean-“ He sputtered and threw his hands up in defeat. A moment later he stared at her, before crossing his arms over his chest defensively, and turned back to the board in silence once more.

Dewey had seemed to grow more agitated the longer they had spoke about the topic, before shutting entirely. She wasn’t going to allow this to rest until she got answers though. “Why are you acting so weird? You won’t even look at me and I don’t understand what I did wrong!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” He suddenly shouted back at her, face now red from his anger instead. He had stepped forward so that they were only inches from one another now. She found herself stepping back, uncomfortable by the unusual level of anger he presented. 

She didn’t back down however and straighted herself to her full height before shouting back at him. “Then why are you being such a jerk?! You ignore me, pretend like we didn’t even kiss, like our relationship didn’t completely change from us doing that, and now you’re getting all worked up when I’m asking what’s going on!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk about it, did you not think about that?!”

“Well, maybe I wanted to, because I actually really like you, and I hate thinking you don’t want to be around me anymore!”

Dewey froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She had admitted the feeling she been hiding and he looked absolutely petrified by it. She suddenly went from angry to hurt just by the stare alone. Had he not even cared enough to know much that been pained by what he had been doing? “Why are...w-what did I do wrong?”

Dewey looked, ashamed as he quickly went to reassure her. “Nothing! You didn’t do anything wrong at all! I just-just-!”

“I don’t understand, just tell me what’s happening? I almost feel like us kissing has messed everything up.”

She was startled to see tears welling in his eyes. “I-I didn’t want...I didn’t want to mess everything up...I-I don’t think...I just thought that it was...it was the right thing to do.”

“...what?” Webby had no idea what was happening. “Wait, time out, what’s going on? I’m really confused.”

“You’re my...well, you’re my best friend and you’re a girl...” Webby nodded slowly, not liking where this sentence was going. “...so, we’re supposed to kiss.”

The younger duck stared at him blankly for a few seconds, before she felt her stomach sink. “What? S-Supposed to?”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re supposed to do. I know you still don’t know a lot of stuff I guess about how things are in the world, but it happens to everyone, so obviously be had to, too.”

Webby has learned enough since becoming friends with him to know what it felt like to be patronized and annoyed by what he just said. ”That’s not...that’s not right though.”

“Well, that’s how it is, just like how it is all the movies and books and stuff!”

“What-? We’re not in a movie, since those aren’t even real. I mean, you and your brothers have showed me wayyy too many times. I thought that you...I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s right at all, Dewey.”

“Well, it is, so that’s why we had to kiss!”

Webby realized if they didn’t cease yelling someone would interrupt with their important conversation. She lowered her voice, talking slowly to him. “My Granny says you shouldn’t have to do things that you really don’t actually want to do. And Dewey, you’ve told me that just because something happens in the movies and to other people, doesn’t mean that it actually does. So, doesn’t mean that we don’t actually have to do anything because we’re best friends?”

The 13-year-old opened and closed his mouth a few times. “But...if we don’t have to, what would we do then?”

“Um, continue being best friends? Dewey, did you think we would just stop being friends if we didn’t do that?” Fear flashed in his eyes and she gasped. “You really thought that?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “...I mean, yeah...I thought it was obvious you would just move on from me otherwise.”

Webby felt tears welling in her eyes and sympathy in her heart. “I wouldn’t do that to you...I would never do that to you. How could I just suddenly dump my best friend like that?”

“...oh...so, uh, do you actually like Louie or Huey then?” It was obvious he said the wrong thing when she punched him on the arm. “Ow! What was that for?!”

“I don’t have a crush on either of them! I like...well, I did like you,” She admitted, feeling herself begin to blush. She shook her head then, face turning crestfallen. “But, I don’t think...you don’t really want to date me, do you? You just thought that you had to...”

He frowned. “I...I also think I’m just kinda confused...I had always thought...I mean, no one ever told me that I didn’t have to, so I just thought...I really thought I had a crush on you...and kissing was nice, but...I maybe I don’t really want to...and besides, I think I’m still actually trying to figure out if I’m also into guys or not and that’s been sorta confusing...I’m sorry...”

Her eyebrows furrowed as he trailed off into a hesitant mumble. She had never seen him as unconfident as he was now. Webby hadn’t truly realized how much he had been upset over this until this conversation. Yes, Webby genuinely had a crush on him at one point, but it was evident enough that he didn’t. In the end, she would rather have a friend than a boyfriend, if that meant he would be happy again. “Dewey, I’m not mad...well, I kinda was because you were being a jerk, but you shouldn’t have to feel like your forced to do things you don’t want to.”

He rolled his eyes at her in exasperation. “As if anyone could force the Dewster to do anything!” 

Webby saw the confident expression spread across his face for the first time in a long time and she felt her heart beam that her friend was back to normal again. “I know that, silly. I just don’t want you to say you like someone unless you actually do, because I was hurt and confused since I thought I did something wrong...”

He lost charm in an instant and face appeared guiltily once more. “I’m really sorry I was such a jerk and being really confusing...can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Hmmm...I don’t know...you might have to buy me a hamburger to make up for it...” 

Dewey sighed dramatically, as though it was the most bothersome task for forgiveness. “You’re asking a lot, you know that?”

“I guess I won’t forgive you then.” Webby started matter of factly.

“Would you settle for a hug?”  
Dewey asked her and she found herself smiling despite their play fighting. She couldn’t pretend a moment longer, as she could never pass up an opportunity to hug someone. She nodded in earnest and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “...I’m really sorry that I was mean to you, Webby. You’re literally my best friend and I can’t even imagine hurting you like that ever again.”

“I know you won’t,” Dewey always kept his promises for Webby. She couldn’t recall a time that he had ever had lied about being able to do so. It was one of the reasons she cared about him as much as she did.

“Are we ok?” Was the hesitant question that reached her ears.

“Of course!” Webby has pulled away and beamed pleasantly at him. She meant it, too. She couldn’t dream of never forgiving one of her best friends. It simply wasn’t in her nature and never would be. Her Granny has always told her she was likely a monk in a past life. Strong, forgiving, kind. She had taken that her heart and had made those her core values since she was told that years ago.

...then why did she feel like she didn’t forgive him?  
*

“Who’s out there?” The startled voice echoed down the dark alleyway, Donald frozen a few steps away from exiting it to the street. He typically used his authoritarian voice when he fought crime, but being a 17-year-old nearly cornered in a alley by a stranger had made him react in defense.

“Κρυφό στις σκιές κάθε μυστικού.” Came the whisper in return. He flinched, feeling as though the words were coming from everywhere around him, including from behind. He recognized the language as being Greek, but was unable to translate it.

“I don’t...I don’t speak Greek. What do you want from me?” He felt the wind return to his sails and he firmly demanded the figure his intentions. The duck stepped back slightly, feeling the feathers on the back of his neck begin to stand. This wasn’t a normal encounter if his intuition told him anything. The figure disappeared, seemingly into the shadows. This alarmed him greatly and his eyes began to dart every direction for movement. He raised his hands, every intention of fighting with all his fight if the villain would suddenly appear once more.

“Με καλείς μέσα από τις κρυμμένες αισθήσεις,” He immediately whirled around to the sudden voice in his ear, kicking his leg out to hit whoever was there. He nearly tumbled onto his face, finding his leg not making contact with anything at all. He instead fell to his hands and knees, gasping loudly from the sudden slip. “Θα υποσχεθείς τιμή στον Θεό σου?”

Donald’s head snapped up immediately to find piercing eyes peering at him from above. The golden hue they presented hinted at the sun rising, nearly blinding his vision. He flickered away his eyes instantly from the gaze and refused to move a muscle until he knew what the other planned. His throat felt dry and he could sense this presence as someone otherworldly. The last time he had felt anything as this had been when he last encountered a... “You’re...you’re a...God, aren’t you?”

“Ναί...” Donald suddenly couldn’t even speak, couldn’t even produce a single noise from his throat in response to the one phrase he recognized. He wasn’t completely certain, but he was confident the Greek deity had set a spell of silence on him. The shadow continued to speak, as though Donald could understand the foreign language. “Κάτω από το τριαντάφυλλο.”

Donald felt frustration boil in his gut, which increased after realizing he couldn’t properly communicate. After a long moment where nothing happened, other than Donald stewing in his fury, the morning sun began to peek into the alley. The light basked light onto the scene, reflection glinting off each piece of metal surrounding him. Despite the eyes that had previously been hovering far above him, he had a young falconing revealed to him, likely no older than ten years of age. He appeared remarkably close to the Egyptian God Horus he realized in an instant, though much smaller. “W-Who-?”

He flinched at his voice suddenly returning. The God raised a finger to his lips, producing a shushing noise that he realized his actually understood in plain English. The duck’s own language flowed from the remaining shadows around him, though the God didn’t open his beak. “You shroud yourself in the night. You conceal your strengths from the world. You silence yourself when you believe you need to be unobtrusive. Donald Duck, you have seeked my enchantment by worshipping the deity before you. Thus, you have proven yourself capable for my quest.”

Donald stared at him with a frown. “Quest? I don’t really want to or have the time to do anything like that right now. I already have a lot on my plate with studying, not to mention dealing with the Beagle Boy’s constant heists for the-“

The God’s voice roared over his own, shaking the ground with the force of it. “This is the fate of the future at hand, not the current problems that plague your young mortal self! I have been tasked by Apollo to veil this prophecy against the other Gods and mortals in this world. You are the one that must ensure that this plane may continue the current existence it does!”

Donald stared at him with wide eyes, feeling shaken by the power being exuded. “W-Why do you have to keep it a secret?”

“If anyone other than the ones prophesied learn of this secret, the entire fate of the world could be negatively affected. Apollo received word from one of his oracles a century ago about a young Donald Duck receiving word once he takes up the mantle of hero. You are to accept this quest to defeat those interfering with the fate of the world when you reach maturity of forty years.”

“I...But, I don’t...I don’t even want to do that!” He felt his anger returning as the God continued on. He felt an odd choking feeling in his throat for a moment, before suddenly words he held to his chest spilled from his bill. “I’m not even anyone important! How could it be a prophecy about me?! I’m just Donald Duck! I’m worthless and if I disappeared no body would even care! I should just kill myse-“

He clapped his hands over his bill when he realized what he had begun to reveal. He didn’t move a muscle and didn’t make eye contact with the God. He felt shame overtaking his senses, along with a hint of fear. The voice around him softened, caressing his heart. “Donald Duck, I provide this secret in confidence to you, and as such I cannot lie when it is truth. You would not be destined for this distinction, if you were not worth such. You were forged to preserve the world...”

Donald gasped awake with a start, unaware he had been dreaming. His wings flailederratically and he wildly searched his surroundings. The duck was in Uncle Scrooge’s office. The scribbling he had briefly heard paused, with Uncle Scrooge staring at Donald with a raised eyebrow from behind his desk. Donald heaved deep breathes in and out, which caused the billionaire’s face to morph to concerned. “You alright there, lad? You woke rather abruptly.”

The sailor rubbed a hand across his eyes wearily. He was no longer a teenager, but in fact a 39-year-old. He shrugged as Scrooge awaited his answer and mumbled in reply. “Just had a weird dream is all...how long have I been asleep?”

“Better part of an hour now. You looked like you could have used, so I let you be. I’m nearly done here though, so we can depart in a minute now,” He returned to his signatures, as though nothing had occurred a minute ago. 

Donald relaxed into the armchair, allowing his head to loll on the head of the seat. He hadn’t thought about that memory in such a long time, that it felt as though it were an entirely different life he had lived. His back went ramrod straight and he felt his heart pounding instant. Scrooge noticed the sudden movement and glanced up. He opened his ask what was the matter, when he noticed what Donald had. “What is dismal downs is that smell?”

He attempted to make a face of indifference at the question. He seemed to succeed as Scrooge stood from his desk and waltzed over to the cooling vent on the left side of the room. Donald knew that it was the smell roses. He tried not to think too hard about his dream, but he realized that it could’ve not been possibly a coincidence that they would smell roses after waking up. He gazed about the room attempting to find the source of the smell himself, though he could not identify where exactly it was coming from. The older duck smell near the vents and shook his head. “Odd, it’s not coming from the room nearby, but in here...”

Donald scrambled to stand and grasp hold of crutches. He desperately needed to leave or he would begin to panic in earnest. “I’m gonna head out to the car and wait for you.”

“All right, lad. I’ll be able to in a few minutes to drive us home, just as soon as I figure out that smell...” The sailor didn’t respond to the words and quickly made his escape.

When he arrived outside he released a breath he didn’t realize he held and his shoulders slummed. He could no longer smell the roses in the air and felt thankful for the fact. He headed to his uncle’s car, hoping it would still start after the accident earlier in the day. He sat in the driver’s seat and adjusted it to his height. The duck stared at the deflated airbags billowed out across the seats and reach forward to shove them back into place. They would need to have Launchpad take care of those tonight it seemed and possibly alter the damage Scrooge had done.

Donald was about to lay back his seat to relax while waiting for Scrooge, when he detected through the rearview mirror that someone was sitting in the backseat. He react immediately by dropping his seat to wham into them as a distraction before a true attack, only for it to only slam into the seat behind him. The figure had seemingly vanished without a trace, despite what he knew he had seen. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I must be more tired than I thought...”

He lifted his seat back up and yelped in surprise at the familiar figure of a Greek God in his passenger seat. “The hero shall soon begin his quest, despite his protests.”

The hand Donald had placed over his own heart when he had been startled curled into a fist of anger. He opened his mouth to erupt, when the words that been stared caught up to him. He paled drastically and eyes flickered down to his missing leg with a grimace. His voice was pleading as he stared into the God that delivered his fate. “I-I can’t anymore! My leg is completely gone and I have to worry about my family’s-”

Harpocrates, the God secrets and silence, leaned in closer to him, golden eyes invoking a sense of calm into Donald’s heart. What he said did the exact opposite of stilling his pounding heart. “The birds of a feather unite once more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy, long time no see. I may or may have not lost motivation to write this for quite awhile there. I do have another reason as to why I was temporarily gone as well though: I unfortunately discovered during quarantine that my wrist has a ganglion cyst, which has caused plenty of discomfort. I have been resting it much more often, which entails at this moment wearing a brace. I’m really sorry for the wait during all of that time, but I am definitely back! 
> 
> So, notes for this chapter: My intentions originally were to have Webby and Dewey be a couple, but I decided to should use this this scenario instead. As mentioned in several author note’s, I do take some inspirations from my own life, and how this is a slight vent fic for me. As personal experience, I have had felt pressure that being friends with any guy means that we have to get together. This came from family and from my peers my age growing up. There seemed to always be a constant pressure with any friendship between boys and girls, that it had to be romantic. I had personally have others tell me this and watched it happen to others as well. Unfortunately, I never had a Webby that told me otherwise. After much trial and error, I had discovered that was obviously not the case. What I am trying to say, as I know many people on AO3 are still young, please never feel like you have to do something you don’t enjoy. Peer pressure is definitely a real thing and you don’t have to bend to the will of it!
> 
> Finally, I have short note about trigger warnings. At the very top of each chapter I will include trigger warnings (by request as well if anything is hurting anyone) and I have it so I tell you the exact sentence or scene is mentioned, so that one knows where to skip over. I don’t respond to the messages, as I don’t want to out someone’s triggers, but if you see a change in the warnings at the beginning of the chapter, that means I received your request. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to support Castaway, even while I was gone, and hope everyone enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Κρυφό στις σκιές κάθε μυστικού. Hidden in the shadows of every secret. 
> 
> Με καλείς μέσα από τις κρυμμένες αισθήσεις. You call me through the hidden senses.
> 
> Θα υποσχεθείς τιμή στον Θεό σου?Will you promise honor to your God?
> 
> Ναί...Yes...
> 
> Κάτω από το τριαντάφυλλο. Under the rose.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some moments of dissociation on Donald’s part and with descriptions of violence starting with the last scene of the chapter.

Donald was silent the entire drive home, having opped to switch to the passenger seat after the nerve wracking God had left him with a surprising message. He was in no state to drive after being reminded by his 40th birthday his prophecy would begin and that supposedly he would be reunited with friends Jose and Panchito for the first time in over a year. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to focus through his thinking about how the pair hadn’t even attended his funeral that had happened when he went missing on the island a lifetime ago. According to his uncle, the millionaire had sent out multiple emails and phone calls, only to receive no answer. He had even resorted to using Donald’s phone, that he had left with his luggage at the bus stop in his haste to go see the Spear of Selene when it crashed. There hadn’t been any answer and Donald hadn’t known how to feel that his friends seemingly abandoned him after he had supposedly passed.

Part of him though was afraid that they had gotten into trouble as per usual, which was why they never answered. But, why wouldn’t they try to contact him and what would be taking them this long to deal with? Or, if he was deluding himself, the idea of Donald being dead was too much, and they didn’t want to go to his funeral. Part of him was just sickeningly mad. How dare they just abandon after everything they had been through together? How dare they just leave him to die alone on a island, believing he would simply end his life there? But, what if...what if they were dea-“Donald? Lad, I’ve called your name a dozen times now! Are you alright?”

The sailor blinked slowly and turned away from the window he had mindlessly stared out of. His uncle was standing by the driver’s side, door open, speaking to him with an urgent tone. Donald realized they were home and that Scrooge was attempting to get him to leave the Jeep so they could go inside. He unbuckled his seatbelt and began to exit the vehicle without a single reply. By the time he had his crutches rearranged to his person, his uncle had already left, much to his relief. He was getting tired of being asked as many times as he had if he was alright. If he got asked one more time, he was literally going to explode in one of his famous fits of anger.

By the time he had returned to the mansion, Ms. Beakley has already poured him a cup of tea, setting it at the table by the fireplace. He stared at her from the entryway, realizing after she sternly pointed a chair in front of it, that it was in fact meant for him. He could tell by the fierce gaze in her eyes that he had no choice in the matter and he was too exhausted to try to argue against it for once. He slumped into the chair, awaiting for Ms. Beakley to explain why he had to wait here, but he already had a sneaking suspicion as to why. Tea time by the fireplace seemed to be to spot that Scrooge for serious discussions for the two of them throughout his adolescence. He was zoning out on this knowledge so much that he hadn’t realized Ms. Beakley was speaking to him. “What’s huh?”

She sighed. “I said, Donald, that you’re spilling your tea onto the ground.”

He glanced down, realizing he was holding his tea at an angle, with the drink slowly drizzling out onto the floor. If it wasn’t for the fact that one of his legs were missing, he would have likely been pouring scalding tea onto himself. He placed the cup down onto the saucer quickly and gave her a sheepish grin. He hadn’t felt this embarrassed around Ms. Beakley until this moment and found himself blurting out words he hadn’t expected to say to her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Ms. Beakley shook her head and was beginning to already mop the spill. He couldn’t seem to recall when she had grabbed one, yet here it was in her hands as if by magic. Her tone sounded as though she were speaking to one of the teens, which made him bristle. “It’s quite alright, Donald, but I can’t help but feel as though you’re distracted.”

Donald clenched his bill shut and ground out his next words. “I have a lot on my mind.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment on his prickly tone. Instead, she continued to mop as she spoke softly. “Scrooge brings Della here as well, you know...in fact when you had been missing, they had both spent hours in this seats.” The sailor blinked in surprise at the revolution, unaware they had shared the same spot him and Scrooge had when he was growing up. Ms. Beakley propped her mop against the wall behind the fireplace and began to gather her teapot. She made eye contact with him, tone knowing. “I believed they both missed you a great deal, especially for Scrooge to share this spot you two shared in confidence.”

Donald shrugged at her, trying to to feel indifferent, despite the fact she had just exposed a secret spot Scrooge and him had. “Yeah, well, I guess not enough to continue to search for me.”

Ms. Beakley rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, Donald, but Scrooge definitely wanted to continue to do so. However, his therapist was able to talk sense into him, otherwise he would have continued down the dark path he did last time.” “What, the dark path of discovering I was actually alive, and stranded on a deserted island this whole time?” Ms. Beakley was suddenly resting both of her hands on either arm of his chair, glaring intensely at his face. Her voice was full of a surprising about of venom. “You were not there either time Scrooge McDuck had to accept the fact that he had a lost one of his family members, not once, but twice. When a Webbigal and I had arrived at the mansion, he could care little enough about the consequences he would have to endure if he continued down the path he did to search for Della. And, if he did it again, it would have surely ruined him.” Donald could feel his feathers standing on end and was immediately reminded that why this duck had worked for S.H.U.S.H. Though he was usher it hadn’t, his voice shook in anxious reply. “I-I doubt there’s anything that can ruin Uncle Scrooge.” “Except for losing a child of his own,” She countered, before pulling away. His pounding heart slowed once there was distance between the two. “And, in a year, and a death of someone precious to you can change quite a lot. You should know better than anyone, after what you had to go through when you believed Della to be gone.”

Donald twitched at the mention of his sister’s previous disappearance and assumed death. However, he didn’t want to discuss this topic with Ms. Beakley in the least. While they had come to an understanding with one another before he had been stranded on the island, he didn’t feel as though he couldn’t let his guard down emotionally in a way that he could reveal any of his thoughts about this matter with her. “You’re...you’re talking about family matters, that really don’t concern you at all.”

Surprisingly she laughed in a low tone. “Ironic that I heard those exact words from Scrooge McDuck only a few years ago.”

“Just because Uncle Scrooge didn't mean it, doesn’t mean I don’t.” He snapped coldly at her with a glower. She smirked at him and began to leave, not antagonizing him further. She felt himself relax, not longer irritated as she retreated. A moment later, her voice caught his ears as she called over her shoulder. “Pretty soon Webbigal will be calling you ‘Uncle Donald’.”

Donald snatched his tea cup moodily and drained it all in one sip. He slammed it down, enjoying the rattling of the table, before glaring at the empty fireplace. She thought she had him down to a tee, but she couldn’t be more wrong. Ms. Beakley was not part of his family and neither was...he didn’t finish the thought, knowing it would be a lie to say Webby had grown on him. He didn’t bother to move when he heard the all familiar sound of Scrooge’s cane approaching. He didn’t even turn his head as the duck sat down in the seat beside him. “You know for a fact that Bentina is family and I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell her otherwise.”

Donald’s voice was stony. “I wouldn’t call her family. I don’t even know a thing about her.”

“Della doesn’t know much about her either, but she calls her family just the same.”

His head snapped up. “Convient that she only feels like that as necessary.”

Scrooge furrowed his eyes brows. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

He looked away, not wanting to talking about Scrooge wanting to be his father. “What do you want from me?”

“I was just wanting to know what was troubling you now? I thought our conversation mostly fixed the issue at hand, but then you were so moody the ride home it’s obvious it didn’t do much in the end!” The older duck cross his arms over his chest. 

Donald sighed. “It’s not about us...I’m just thinking...”

“About?”

“Not really anything you can help with.”

“That’s what you say about everything, even when you’re clearly struggling to stay afloat!” He groused in return, throwing his hands in the air.

“Probably because you can’t actually help me with most things!”

“Well, what about with the things that I can! Like your prosthetic for example! You kept denying that you needed anything from me and I had to literally force you to let me pay for what you so desperately need!”

“Because, I’ve been doing alright without your your help for years!”

“Alright?! You call living on a houseboat, struggling to pay rent and therapy, while raising three growing boys alright?! You’re lucky you had the Navy giving you that fund, otherwise you would have never survived since you’re too stubborn for your own good!” 

“Is that what you came here to do? berate as usual? Because, all I’m hearing is that I did something wrong again and that I needed to come crawling to you for help, because you consider yourself a god damn savor! I didn’t need your charity to get by! Yes, I struggled, but I always made it work for the boys and me in the end! And, I think I did alright! We never ended up on the streets and I never had to do anything illegal either! I would consider that a win in the end! I proved that I didn’t need any of your stupid wealth!”

“I know you did it, but doesn’t mean you had to endure all of that when I had the means to help you all! You never needed to prove anything, Donald, you could have just...” Donald watched the fight leave his uncle. “...I shouldn’t have made you feel that way...I shouldn’t have made you feel that I was going to gloat if you asked for help, no matter how mad we were with each other.”

Donald felt tears welling in his eyes, startled by the fact that his uncle was apologizing about something he had never thought. The sailor knew he was at fault as well though. He know he’s too stubborn for his own good. That had definitely been a factor in their constant fights for years and sometimes he didn’t know how to stop for a second to think rationally at times. It had been harder than usual since he had come back though and found himself falling into a habit of needing to prove himself to his uncle. He was being stupidly stubborn, he reminded himself, and needed to allow himself to be honest with his family. “Uncle Scrooge, I didn’t...I don’t want to talk about everything that’s...making me upset, but I...somethings I can’t even talk to you about.”

“Donald, I don’t understand what you mean that you. Does this have to do with the Navy? I know much of what you did is classified, but-“

“No, no, this is-“ Donald held his breath and buried his face into his hands, his throat closing up. He wasn’t allowed to talk about this, even if he wanted to. He could at least share part of the issue. He lifted up his head. “It’s about Panchito and Jose and how they...they weren’t there after you all thought that I was...”

The older duck’s face flickered from anxiety to anger at the words in a heartbeat. Then, his face went stony cold, a look reserved only for those that had messed with Scrooge McDuck in the wrong way. He spat out his next words bitterly. “Aye, they never answered a bloody word I sent their way!”

Donald cringed, rarely hearing the level of venom in his uncle’s voice as he did now. He truly hoped that his friends hadn’t shown due to a miscommunication, otherwise the next time they would meet Uncle Scrooge they would be in a world of hurt. Part of him wanted to agree with the rage though, submit to his uncle’s line of thinking. How else would you miss letters, emails, and phone calls? “Uncle Scrooge, I don’t even know why they didn’t answer. They might even be in trouble or for whatever reason not around to see you reaching out or to even re...”

He trailed off, suddenly recalling his amulet with a jolt in his mind. He found himself scrambling to gather his crutches, his leg wacking the table hard enough that the tea rattled violently. He needed to check if his amulet was still where he left it last time! His uncle gave him a bewildered look, the sailor not realizing he hadn’t even told him why he was abruptly leaving with no warning. “Lad, where do you think you’re going right now?”

“I’ll be back in a second!” He called putting, pulling his arms back and forth with his crutches as quickly as he could. His uncle called after him once more, which was ignored in favor of heading out to his houseboat with haste. He had been so foolish, not bothering to even check after being back for a month now. He hadn’t ever gone this long without checking, and now he could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. “Phooey!”

He hurried inside his houseboat and went to the bathroom. He couldn’t quite remember which part of the wall tile would give, but he recalled it to near one of the claw legs of his bathtub. The sailor was on the ground, on his hands and knee, fingers scrambling over each tile. After a moment, one of them shifted slightly and he pulled it out of the wall. He reached a hand inside, going elbow deep, only to come up empty handed. His mind went perfectly blank for a long moment, before he reached far enough that his shoulder pressed up against the opening. The amulet wasn’t there. “What in dismal downs are you doing?”

Donald jolted violently at the sudden voice of his uncle and ripped his hand out of the hole in the wall. Scrooge stared at him with wide, confused eyes. Donald pulled himself up using the bathtub, leaning heavily against. He knew his uncle had to be behind this, because who else could have been snooping enough to know about Donald’s hiding spot? He knew his voice sounded frantic, but he couldn’t care in the least at the moment. “Where is it?!”

“Where is what? What has you worked up so much now, lad?”

Donald could tell immediately that his uncle truly hadn’t any idea what was happening, his eyes expressing concern over the sailor’s mental state at the moment. “Who else has been in here since I left?”

“Er, well...quite a few others actually. The boys, Webby-“

Donald’s eyes widened. “When Louie was in here, taking my things, did you see him holding an amulet?”

“What’s this about, lad? Amulet? What do you mean?” Scrooge had slowly approached him, hands raised in a placating gesture. He didn’t have time for his uncle believing he was having a mental breakdown. He snatched his crutches and began to go around Scrooge, face twisted in determination. The older duck raised his hand, pressing it against Donald’s chest to halt him. “Donald, what is wrong now? I thought we were going to have a conversation as to what is worrying you?”

“Uncle Scrooge, I don’t have time for this right now! Where’s Louie? I need to ask him about what he ended up selling right now!”

“I’m certain he’s in his room at the moment, as the boys ended up not going to school since they spoke about their conspiracies all night. Bentina was telling me that-“ While his uncle began to go off into another tangent, he got around him, heading out the houseboat’s front door. “Wait a minute now!”

Scrooge caught up with him almost immediately, as Donald left the pool area, and headed towards the back door of the mansion. The sailor knew his uncle was about to ask again, even before he opened his mouth. “Panchito, Jose, and me matching had amulets, and mine was missing.”

Scrooge look startled about receiving an answer, but quickly recovered. They were heading up the stairs, when his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why in the world were you hiding it in the wall of your lavatory?”

“It’s important and I didn’t want anyone to take it,” He replied, heading down the hallway with the vengeance of a father about to punish his children for misbehaving. Scrooge had opened to his bill, likely about to ask more, when he thrust open the boy’s door with no warning whatsoever. “Louie!”

The preteens all jolted awake in their beds in an instant, immediately knowing the sound of their uncle deep in their sleep. He stared directly at the green hoodied duck in the middle bunk, staring back at him with frightened eyes. Huey’s wide eyes stared at Donald, before he wisely snatched his headphones from the shelf beside his bed. He rolled over, facing away to give privacy for whatever Louie had down wrong. Dewey wasn’t in his bed at all, though Donald hardly noticed at the moment. The young duck gulped thickly, trying to recall why he had done this time as Donald approached. “Uhhh, m-morning, Uncle Donald...uhhh, you don’t look too happy.”

Scrooge had stayed outside in the hallway, knowing better than to interrupt his nephew when he was punishing one of the boys. He tried not to make it too obvious he was listening in for answers about the several other questions he had though. Louie had sat up in bed, trying to stifle his yawn from his lack of sleep as Donald came to his bed. “Where did you sell my stuff?”

Louie cringed and a lie immediately rolled off his tongue. “I didn’t sell anything, I swear!”

The younger duck immediately regretted the lie, when Donald’s face hardened at the words. “Would you like to try your answer again, Llewellyn?”

Considering the use of his full first name, he knew he needed to tell the truth right that moment, or the consequences would be worse. He rubbed the back of his neck and gulped again. “You, uh...found out I did that, huh? Ah...haha...ha...”

“Llewellyn Rebel Duck!”

“Ok, ok, I sold them in a massive garbage sale on the front lawn, and practically the entire city showed up to buy your things, I’m sorry, don’ttakeawaymyplansforLouieInc-“

Donald cut him off in a hurry. “What did you do with the amulet?!”

Louie’s face went blank in confusion. “The what now?”

“The necklace you found in the wall of the bathroom!”

Louie nodded his head frantically, hoping not to further infuriate his uncle. “Uh, yeah, the necklace, right! The weird blue glowy gem! I hid it! I thought I could sell it for a really good price online-“ “Where is it now?!” 

“Geez, alright, I’ll show you!” The younger duck scrambled from his bed at the yelling, ready to show his uncle where he had hidden the amulet. The last time his uncle had been this mad at him, had been after he accidentally broke Dewey’s leg after the two of them were playing with fireworks a few years back. In a way it was comforting after Donald had been gone for so long, though he quickly shook that train of thought at the fire in the eyes being presented at him. “It’s somewhere kinda weird and I don’t think Uncle Scrooge would like it if he knew I had been there.”

“And where exactly would I not like you not to be?” Scrooge revealed himself at the doorway with a stern glare.

Louie groaned. “Of course you were hiding in the hallway and heard everything. Could this get any worse?”

“Depending on your hiding location, it very well could be.” Scrooge informed him. The younger duck turned to the sailor, smiling weakly at him. Donald pointed at the doorway, definitely telling him with his eyes that he had no sympathy in the least in this situation. Louie hung his head and began to trudge out the door with his two uncles trailing after him.

“Lad, why exactly are you as worked up as you are over this? I almost expected this when I first informed you what Louie had done, not after realizing he found some gemstone you share with your friends, hiding away in the wall.” He kept his voice low enough for Louie to not hear.

Donald knew they were beginning to tread territory of what he wasn’t allowed to speak about, but he could reveal a bit of the truth. “The amulet is also a family heirloom, Uncle Scrooge; it belonged to Clinton Coot.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. “Clinton? Well, why didn’t you say so, lad? I can understand why you’re as upset as you are now! Louie should know better than to mess around with our family heirlooms, especially after the dime situation.”

“The what?”

“Never mind all that, story for another time. I don’t understand why you had it hiding in the wall though? Why not keep it with you if it was that important?”

Donald raised his eyebrow, hoping his next words were convincing enough as being able to deflect. “Why do you have a Money Vault?”

Scrooge opened and then closed his mouth. His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Touché.”

Donald suddenly realized with a jolt that Louie was leading them up the set of narrow stairs to the attic. He hadn’t set foot in there for years and no longer even knew what contents it held. At one point it had held family heirlooms and served as a hiding spot for him to privately investigate villains in his early days as the Duck Avenger. He had no idea what to expect now, but he noticed his uncle had remained strangely silent. The sailor stared at him from the corner of his eyes, noticing the mysterious look on his face. “What’re you hiding up here?”

Scrooge didn’t even flinch at the question and simply replied. “Nothing but old family heirlooms, lad.”

“I’m thinking one of those heirlooms might be more then you’re letting on, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Just like that gemstone of yours is more than you’re letting on, Donald,” They had arrived at an impasse. Neither would reveal their secrets if the other didn’t want to. Arriving at the door to the attic had interrupted this knowledge however, as Louie opened the door. Scrooge frowned at the action. “I could’ve sworn I locked this ages ago.”

Louie cringed. “Uhh...Webby and me might have broken in a few months ago...”

“And why exactly did you two think that was alright?”

“We...may or may not thought that the...Mole people broke in...” The 13-year-old mumbled with a blush, standing frozen in the doorway.

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Why am I even surprised?”

Donald entered the room, ignoring the conversation, staring at the boxes and trunks nearly stacked to the ceiling. It looked exactly the same as it did all those years ago. He peeked out the window, staring at the lawn below to see the sunset washing over it. A light flickered on above his head and he blinked in surprise. It seemed as though at some point Scrooge installed one. When he was younger he would have to plug in an old lamp he had found in the corner and use flashlights to be able to work. He turned around to find the other two beginning to head towards the back left hand corner, where the boxes were stacked the highest. “I can’t bring my crutches over there.”

The pair paused, before Scrooge nodded at him. “I’ll have Louie bring it out to you then.”

They disappeared from his line of sight into the maze of boxes. He stared around the room, spotting the small lamp he used to use, the reflective colored glass glinting from the light on the ceiling. He wondered what his uncle hid in the mess, what heirloom likely would be the answer to his uncle’s strange behavior. He jumped at a loud clattering from the direction the other two had gone in. There was a long bout of silence before there was an even louder noise. Louie’s voice called out. “We’re ok! Just trying to dig it out!”

“Watch it, laddie!” Scrooge chided the younger duck with a yelp.

Donald sighed at the antics and walked over to the corner that used to house his desk for studying various villains he encountered. He could see the holes from the thumbtacks he previously held there, making him recall the hundreds of pictures he had hung up. His crutch hit one of the boxes next to it and it sagged open from the weight side. He stared at it with disinterested expression, planning on heading back. The cardboard box suddenly spilt open with no warning, a splash of books sliding out of it. One hit his foot and he grimaced at the sharp pain. He stepped back with a growl, freezing when he saw a rose mixed in with the mess. A fresh one, as though it had recently been placed inside. “Uncle Donald, I got the-“

Donald went to whirl around, to grab the intruder interrupting his study of the lowly criminals, daring to sneak upon the superhero. He felt his crutches slide out from underneath him at the movement, startled to find that he was using a pair in the first place. He tipped forward onto his nephew, Louie, it was Louie, he’s not a villain. Donald is no longer the Duck Avenger, why did he think-the younger duck stumbled backwards a bit as he caught Donald. He panted heavily at the sudden dizzying change he experienced, realizing he had thought for a moment that he was 17-years-old, again. Scrooge stared at the entire exchange with confusion, before stepping forward to collect Donald’s crutches. Louie’s arms began to shake from the heavy weight of his uncle, before Scrooge handed over them over so Louie would no longer had to support his weight. “Are you ok, Uncle Donald?”

Donald tried not to bristle at the question and shook his head. “I’m fine...where’s the amulet?”

“Uh-huh...” Louie didn’t look convinced by the answer, but he pulled the amulet from his hoodie’s pocket. He held it by the chain, the blue refracting the light in a broken pattern around the room. It held it’s own glow though, the light in the room clearly not being enough to make it appear as bright as it did.

Scrooge raised his eyebrows in shock at the beauty of it. “I can see why you hid it away, it looks-“

Louie dropped it in his uncle’s awaiting hand and Donald was no longer himself, he was-running, running through the forest, branches scratching him in every direction. There was a mild chill to the air, the beginning of winter hinting at it’s return. The trees were still that vibrate hue of green in the summertime, though a yellow tone had begun to take hold of each leaf surrounding him. He could feel a string of terrified Spanish roll off of his tongue as he glanced over his shoulder at the frantic blur approaching from behind. 

If anyone had told Panchito Pistoles he would be running for his life through the mountains in Alaska, he would have laughed hard enough to bust a rib from the ridiculousness of it all. The running for his life wasn’t what would be he would lose it over though, considering he had done it far too often by now. The entire scenario of being in a colder climate, unlike that of South America, would have been out of the norm for him. Why else would he ever leave the warm weather he so enjoyed?

Jose. Jose was what made him run through the dense forestry with haste, dodging trees with speed that could match a road runner. He glanced over his shoulder multiple times, eyes scanning for an escape route, as he clutched his sombrero right to his head to avoid losing it. He caught yet another glimpse of a blur charging after him and could feel the ground rumbling and the sound of trees being toppled over in a destructive wake. Panchito yelped out a curse when the sound of an furious bear roared at him from behind. “¡Mierda, mierda, mierda!”

Now, one at this point would have naturally assumed that someone as wild as this frantic rooster had aggravated a bear due to provoking the animal in it’s natural habitat. That would be the typically be the case, but this time around it had definitely been the poacher that tricked the poor creature into thinking that the one saving it was the actual danger in this scenario. Which resulted in Panchito trying to his best to outrun a charging bear in the first place. He shouted over his shoulder, completely forgetting the bear likely didn’t understand a lick of Spanish. “¡Deja de perseguirme! ¡Yo sólo estaba tratando de ayudar!”

He faced back forward and slammed directly into a tree he hadn’t seen, finding himself flat on his back an instant later. He laid there, dizzy from the pain, attempting to remember why he had come to this country in the first place. He didn’t get far when he saw from an upside down point of view the charging bear wailing wildly at him. He hopped up and climbed the tree as elegantly as someone in a panic could, with clumps of leaves tumbling to the forest floor below. The bear’s massive arms made contact with the tree, rattling the entire base with a dense sound. From a branch high up, Panchito clung on for dear life. “I-I was only trying to save your life! Stop hitting the-stop it right now!”

The bear was continuing to smash his head over and over again into the trunk. In fact, his words seemed to infuriated it, which resulted in the realization that it could in fact understand English. With each hit, the base weakened, which signaled that the rooster only has so long before the tree toppled. He needed to reason with it, before it was too late, and he would either fall to his death or be ate. “He was a poacher! I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you! Please, Mr. Bear, I’m just trying to find my missing friend!”

After his cries of protest and his explanations of the situation, the bear paused at the word “friend”. Panchito blinked in surprise and the bear looked up at him with brilliant eyes of understanding. He raised his head and released a small growl at him, demeanor completely changed. He seemed to show that he no longer wished him any harm in this moment. “Mr. Bear, I am sorry that I caused you grievance, but I was only trying to help you from being hurt. That tricky poacher swindled you into believing I was going to do so, but in truth in only seek the location of my friend.”

There were a series of growls in reply and Panchito beamed. “You would offer your help in finding my friend? Oh, Mr. Bear, gracias, gracias!”

He hopped down from the tree, landing on the bear’s back with a whoop of excitement. He wrapped his arms around the back of it’s neck and hugged it to show his gratitude. The bear growled loudly in reply. The rooster laughed and urged the bear forward, to continue it’s stroll into the dense forestry as Panchito continued his search for José Carioca, the parrot that been missing for the better part of a year. He felt a warm burning sensation on his chest, a red glow bleeding through his jacket. He snatched at the golden chain with a frown, pulling his amulet out of it’s confinement. He hadn’t seen this glow as much as it was at the moment in years and he curiously held the gem in his hand. With a jolt, he was no longer himself, he was now-  


“Eu nunca vou falar!” The parrot spat out a hunk of blood from his beak at the huge moose that was up in his face. The smirk he gave the him after, could have put Della Duck to shame. The moose heaved a puff of hot air and immediately swung his metal pipe across his chest in revenge, feathers and blood flying across the floor at the action. Jose panted, head hanging as blood dripped unsteadily from his bill. The creature grabbed the feathers on top of head to lift it up to his gaze. “Urgh...” “This is going to be the last time I ask, before I bring out worse: where are the amulets?” He shaken with an intensity that made him feel ill.

The steel door behind him abupurtly opened and large rooster with a metal beak entered the room. He made eye contact with Jose as he adjusted his cuff links. He grinned slyly at him and tugged his tie taunt against his neck. The parrot hadn’t the foggiest idea who this animal to be, but the rooster didn’t seem to want to elaborate. He approached smoothly, shoes tapping out a rhythm of a song he couldn’t identify, before looming behind his torturer with a grin. “How’s it, goin’ in here?”

“Carioca’s not saying much, boss. He also ceased speaking English entirely and I don’t have any idea what he’s saying anymore.”

The rooster’s attitude flipped like a switch and he whacked the other animal over the head with a growl. “You better not gave him brain damage, you dunce!”

The moose grimaced at the pain and rubbed at the back of his head. “H-He seems coherent enough, b-boss.”

“He is perfectly capable of speaking English, but chooses not to,” José interjects, when the blood cleared from his mouth. “I might be more motivated to answer, if you tell me your name, my friend.”

“It’s Noneofya.”

Jose frowned. “Noneofya?”

“Yeah, none of ya business.” The rooster snickered at his own joke.

“Desgraçado...” Jose muttered under his breath.

He stopped laughing and pointed a menacing finger in his face. “Hey, no more using Japanese! Speak English!”

“Boss, uh, I don’t think he’s speaking Japanese. It sounds more like he’s speaking Spanish or Portuguese.”

The rooster flushed and his face grew furious once more. “Whatever, just get back to work, Antlers!”

“Yes, boss.” Antlers replied with an air of exhaustion in his tone, while the rooster muttered darkly to himself, heading back to the door. He opened it and looked over his shoulder with another cocky grin, before slamming the door shut as if to say that Jose would be trapped there forever. The moose turned back to him and cracked his knuckles with ease. After a long moment, he pulled out a lighter from his back pocket. He flicked it on and the flame sputtered out of it. He ran his fingers over the top of it, watching the flame dance from the movement. Jose wasn’t certain where exactly this going, but he could feel goosebumps rise underneath his feathers. “So, you going to actually tell me the location of the amulets, or shall we continue?”

Jose eyed the lighter, completely unnerved as he realized what Antler’s intentions were. It wouldn’t be the worse he had gone through with the moose had done to him in the past month he had been there, but he knew it would still hurt badly. Even though in a minute he would surely be a mess from the burning pain, he knew he couldn’t reveal the truth. He couldn’t reveal the location of their amulets. He mustered up his courage, despite his intense fear, and spoke steadily. “Sim, vamos lá.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I finally answered one of the most asked questions of the story: where are José and Panchito? They are in my favorite state of Alaska! In the Castaway universe, The Legend of the Three Caballeros is part of Donald’s past, and as a result important to the storyline. If you haven’t watched the cartoon, I highly recommend it, since it’s very well made rendition of the Caballeros meeting and has magical mythology invoked as well, just as Ducktales 2017 does.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for kudos and comments! They keep me highly motivated to keep this story going on until the very end. See you all next time!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> (Panchito)  
¡Mierda, mierda, mierda!  
Shit, shit, shit!
> 
> ¡Deja de perseguirme! ¡Yo sólo estaba tratando de ayudar!  
Stop chasing me! I was just trying to help!
> 
> (Jose)  
Eu nunca vou falar!  
I will never speak!
> 
> Desgraçado...  
Bastard...
> 
> Sim, vamos lá.  
Yes, let’s go.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Descriptions of acts of violence and non-consented drugging.

Storkules couldn’t help the groan that spilled from his bill. He felt as though his mouth was filled with cotton, opening his it to dispel the feeling, instead finding his tongue dangling uselessly. His head lolled to the side as he blinked his eyes open, hardly able to see anything in the dim room. He flinched when his eyes finally adjusted and realized 74 was sitting beside with him with a wary expression. He could feel his heart pounding at the sight her, afraid she would drug him once more. He hadn’t ever experienced such a feeling until that moment and he never wanted to ever again. He had no control of his movements and it terrified him. 

She cocked her head to the side. “I’ve been around someone like you before, haven’t I?” 

Storkules squeezed his eyes shut as though that were solve all of his problems. He could hear the smirk in her voice, as though she knew everything there was. “It’s really hard to pierce your skin...and you have super strength...or least you do until I drugged you.” 

“N-Nay...” He protested feebly, but knew that it was too late. He could sense what she was about to say, even before she said it. 

“In fact, just a shot in the dark here-“ It wasn’t, nobody would make a shot in the dark about something like this, unless they had truly encountered another immortal such as himself. “-but, I want to say you’re an immortal, aren’t you? A Greek one I would surmise, from the name, and that accent you’ve slipped into now that you have no control over what you say.” 

74 held a dangerous glinting in her eyes, predatory, able to pick his mind. Despite her young age, she had an air of someone that you shouldn’t mess with. A face as innocent as her own could be, considering that she could be mistaken for a teenager, shouldn’t be twisting the way it was, but he could hardly deny the sight before him. “Perhaps a demigod? Yeah, you look more afraid than before about my guess...you’re definitely a demigod. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t demigods typically do as what the Gods and Goddess quest them to do?” 

The demigod panted from forcing his bill to cooperate. He managed to make the words he attempted to form with much difficultly. “What...have...poisoned my form...?”

“Like I said, a tranquilizer,” She snapped at him with a roll of her eyes. “Focus on what I just said though! I want to know right now who you are exactly, and why has an immortal sent you to spy on us?”

Storkules shook his head slowly and hazily stared past her. He could see movement and could smell fruit lingering in the air. Hera stood elegantly, with a golden halo effect surrounding her form. The drugs pumping through his system made him blink against the painful light of it. Drinking always made things brighter, but this was beyond painful to his retinas. He focused in on the scowl adorning her face. She didn’t appear to be pleased by the situation he was in and he could feel his heart seize up at the way her face twisted. She shook her head at him with a sneer. Oh no. Oh no. “Pitiful.” 

He couldn’t breath for a moment, then a stuttering cane from his bill. “P-P-Please-“ 

“It appears as though once a disappointment, always a disappointment.” She flared at him with blanket sustain and turned around. He was clearly not worth the sight of the Queen, of his Queen, of his Stepmother, the one he had always tried to make love him.

His heart felt as though it were being twisted in his chest. He began to openly weep, unable to help the feelings of being rejected by yet another parent. 74 was suddenly blocking the vision he had of Hera. She looked confused, though she had a wary air to her. “Are you actually crying? What the hell? Stop that, it’s kinda gross actually, your face is all screwed up and-“

The stork could hardly focus on much else other than blubbering out an apology to Hera, even if she wasn’t there any longer. “I-I apologize! I d-desire to-“

“I’ve given you your chance and now you have to deal with the consequences on your own.” Hera replied stonily from a distance, and then disappeared the next moment. She left behind a waft of apples and pomegranates in her wake of destruction.

“Apologize?” 74 began, staring at him as though he had lost his mind.

Storkules couldn’t find it in himself to continue to listen any longer. His Queen, his Queen, he had-His stepmother, he had failed his stepmother, the one time she had given him the opportunity to prove himself. He had been forsaken once again, first by his mother, then his father, and now his stepmother. He wanted to curl up into the ball he was unable to form and never awake ever again. He hadn’t felt this broken in such a long time, ever since his mother had passed so tragically as she did. The tears in his vision blurred the face of 74, hardly able to see her form other than the colors she presented. He blubbered incoherent words. He knew he was wailing at some point, unable to express his failure any other way than that. Things became hazier from there and he found merciful sleep swallowing him whole.  
*

At some point they had ceased their relentless beating, leaving Della bloody and bruised. She barely had a moment to catch her breath, when she was grabbed by the chin. She flinched when she realized that a steel beak was directly in her face. She froze at the at the surprising sight. His dark eyes were predatory, as though he already knew her every weakness she could possibly have. He turned her head back and forth back and forth, with a gentle pressing. She would even say it was a caress, if it wasn’t for the painfully tight grip he had on her. She couldn’t move her head on her own due to the exhaustion wearing her down. “Think ya broke her bill. Face is all puffy like mine was when my bill got wrecked.”

The German Shepherd that had done the deed nodded at him. “I thought so, too, Boss. I was avoiding hitting it again since I know that-“

The rooster released her jaw and turned to backhand the dog with no warning. He had hit him hard enough to cause him to fall instantly to the ground. The Shepherd didn’t move a muscle, out cold. The Rottweiler wisely stayed back a good distance, flinching at the idea of being hit as hard as that. The rooster screamed at the unconscious dog below him. “Ya stupid dolt! We need her to actually be able to talk and now she can’t! Dee is gonna complain to-“

“B-Boss, we’re supposed to use our code names.” The Rottweiler interrupted, immediately regretting it with a squeeze of his eyes shut.

He received dangerously narrowed eyes and growl that made shivers go down both of their spines. “I don’t give a damn what names we’re using! If ya don’t fix this now and find a way to make her talk, I’m gonna do what I did to your little friend here.”

“Y-Yes, Boss.” The Rottweiler whimpered. Della didn’t feel the least bit of pity for the trembling dog. The rooster looked as though he were about to threaten him more, but paused when his phone vibrated loudly in his pocket. He snatched it from his pocket with a frown at the intrusion. He stared at the smartphone, reading slowly, before groaned. “I gotta go, but ya better do ya damn job if you know what’s good for ya!” 

The Rottweiler nodded frantically. The rooster swung open the door, allowing to slam shit with a clang behind him. Della couldn’t help herself, releasing a bout of laughter at the Rottweiler’s face when they were alone, a bubble of blood gurgling out. He whirled around with a glare, swiping his hand across her face violently. “I don’t know what the hell you’re laughing at, but since Bones can’t make you regret being a bitch, then I’m going to!”

The door behind the dog abruptly swung back open to the both of their surprise, revealing the rooster poking his head back in to call out. “And throw her in a cell; she’s not any use to us right now!”

Della felt her heart drop at the words.  
*

By the time her face had swollen to twice it’s size and she lost control of her arms from the new round of beatings, the other dog had awoken. She could hardly stand on her own, as her prosthetic was hanging brokeningly, and her good leg throbbing painfully. The pair of dogs dragged her down a hallway when she didn’t respond to their prodding. Disorientation was overtaking Della’s senses, vision growing hazy. She couldn’t recall arriving to the cells, but suddenly she was thrown into one without a care. The breath was taken from her lungs as she collided with the ground and she laid there groaning as she was left alone. Well, expect for the poofy ball of feathers sitting in the corner of the-

The adrenaline had her scrambling back against the cold bars behind her, frightened by the unknown. After a moment of study, she realized it was a type of bird with heavily overgrown feathers, facial features shrouded by them. It appeared as though they hadn’t bothered to give themselves a trim in quite sometime. Even more unsettling was the dried patches of blood smear across nearly every inch of the feathers. She nearly gagged as a ripe smell approached her nose, slapping a hand over her bill to prevent herself from losing the contents of her stomach. She sat there without moving until her rebellious stomach controlled itself. The duck heard a crackling voice mumble from the pile of feathers in a language she couldn’t quite identify. She swallowed thickly, before her own weak voice spoke. “W-Who are you?”

The pile of feathers shifted, revealing a pair of golden eyes, the feathers overgrown to the point that it masked the rest of his face. Despite the frightening appearance, she found herself relaxing when she realized the other didn’t wish her harm. He-judging from the sound of his voice-likely was just as much a victim to the mercy of these villians, just as she was. After deciding what she should do for a long minute, she crawled closer, unable to stand from the swelling in her leg. She paused, trying not to gag once more at the smell emitting from him. He obviously hadn’t been showered in such a long time. She kept a respectable distance, unable to stomach being much closer. “I-I can’t understand anything you’re saying.”

The eyes blinked slowly at her, a haunted look staring back at her in reply. It almost seemed as though he looked through her instead. His eyes focused though, brightening in recognition of the language she spoke in. The bird trembled, more of the foreign language sounding out at her, though a bit of English was heard at the end. “...tired...want to...home...”

Della could understand at least that much. She laughed bitterly and stared down at her lap. Ironically she was beginning to feel the same way. “Makes two of us, buddy.”

“...English...English...” The bird mumbled.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I’m speaking...sorry, I can’t really understand the other language your speaking. I unfortunately only know some alien, specifically Moo-“

The bird made a hacking noise, a deep coughing from his chest. He leaned forward, a drizzle of blood coming from where she supposed his beak or bill was. She gasped at the terrible sight. “O-Oh my god, are you ok? I don’t think you should be coughing up blood!”

There was a low wheezing, more coughing, then more English. “Sorry...English, rusty...fine...is...nao, I am...ok.”

“You don’t need to apologize at all, seriously. It can be a struggle sometimes, I know. I’ve always been really bad at it when I was on the moon. Are you sure you’re alright though? You sound really sick.”

He nodded, feathers covering his eyes, hardly reacting to her mentioning of the moon. “Just...tired...”

“I’m sorry, but how can you stand having all those feathers covering you? It was such a struggle when I was away, but at least I could use my trusty knife when I was stuck-“ Della gasped. “Oh, sorry, I’m just making this all about me, aren’t I? My therapist says I need to stop doing that.”

“...you are...fine...” Della could tell he could actually speak English fluently, but seemed to having a difficult time remembering what he had learned. “...I...am used to...wheez....it...”

“Still, your body must be so heavy and it, er...must be hard to clean...” Della mumbled at the end, realizing her lack of tack. He didn’t seemed offended, shrugging in reply to her. She thought for a long moment, before leaning forward, closer to him. “I’m...I’m Isabella Finch the Second.”

Her hand was extended to him and he stared at it. He pulled out his own arm, revealing it to be crooked as though it hadn’t ever been set correctly when it had been broken. Their hands met and she felt how thick his feathers had grown around his hand. She then flinched, her thumb stinging painfully. She pulled away with a grimace to stare at it. “Shit, think they broke my thumb. At least I can’t feel my wound though...wait...”

The duck lifted up her shirt, revealing her wound to be perfectly stitched up, likely to never leave a scar behind. She also revealed a mess of bruises across her torso. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

The bird reached forward, hand wrapping around her own with a gentle hold. He placed a finger on her thumb and she realized what he was about to do a second to late. She quacked out at the abrupt pain of having her thumb set. “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME WITH NO WARNING-“

Della cut herself off, when the bird flinched violently, pushing himself back into a corner away from her. Della awkwardly watched him cower, feeling bad for what she had done. He was releasing a pitiful keening noise. The duck sighed. “Ah, Phooey...I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to yell, but that just hurt like hell...I really appreciate that you helped me, but still...”

There was a long pause and suddenly the bird was in personal space, grabbing at her bruised arms with a vengeance. She was concerned that he was about to attack her and was further convinced when he yelled in her face. “Phooey! Phooey! You said-you said Phooey!”

Della jerked away, swollen face throbbing from the fear she felt. She gulped thickly and glanced for an escape from the mad animal she was trapped with. “Uh, I-I won’t say that again if you don’t like that! I promise! Just don’t hurt me-“

“Donald! Donald, do you know Donald?!”

Della gasped at the name, knowing that this bird somehow knew her-“Y-You know Donald?” 

There was a long pause and then the bird was grabbing at her beaten face, eyes peering into her own. She shoved him away, bloody and bruised face hurting. There was an intake of breath and suddenly a stunned voice whispering. “D-Della?”

Della’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice as someone she knew. “W-Who-?”

A rapid chain of rambling sounded off at her-Portuguese-and suddenly everything clicked into place. Green. Most of the blood and grime made his feathers appear to be darker shade entirely, but now that she was closer, she could see that his feathers were actually green underneath the mess. Green like-“J-Jose?”  
*

“-Uncle Scrooge, please, you need to get off of him!” He could hear the frightened voice of his nephew, his son, pleading far off. Huey. “-you’re not supposed to hold him down! You’re going to-he-oh, he s-stopped!” 

“I-It was...it-it was at least five minutes! It’s been five-five-five minutes! He’s-“His other son-Louie-he sounded terrified. Was he speaking to someone? 

“Uncle Scoorge, please, you need to get off of Uncle Donald! He might have swallowed his tongue-“ 

“It-It’s been five minutes! Oh my god it’s been-“ He blinked slowly, feeling the heavy weight of his uncle engulfing him, hugging him tightly to his chest. It was possessive in the highest degree, as though he were a treasure as valuable as anything in the Money Bin. The older duck was-he was weeping heavily, louder than he had ever heard his uncle ever cry in his life. There was a repetitive chant of Donald’s name spilling from beak, as though he were pleading. 

Louie sitting on the ground in the corner of the room though caught his eyes first. He was holding his cell phone limply in his hands, eyes distant as he could hear someone of the phone trying to call his attention. The lit up screen presented “911” to him, revealing that they had tried to call an ambulance to the mansion. He sat up with a jerk, cheeks flaming in embarrassment, as his forehead collided with his uncle’s. Despite the pain from the connection, he found himself yelling about other things. “I’m not riding in an ambulance anywhere!” 

There was a long pause of the three other ducks staring at him in unabashed shock. Scrooge was still holding him to his person, tears streaming down his face with no care. Huey was standing behind the older duck, tears welling his eyes, but a determined expression on his face. Louie’s eyes had lit up in an instant and was scrambling across the room to his uncle to join the embrace. Huey was quick to follow, now having three ducks crowd into him, all speaking at once. Donald groaned and reached over to grab the phone from Louie’s hands. He pressed the end call button, tossing it aside the best that he could with the tight grip the others had on him. 

“Uncle Donald, we have to go to the hospital! You just had a seizure for five minutes at the very least and you could have brain damage-or-or-!” Huey finally released his tears, weeping loudly as he buried his face into Donald’s back. Louie blubbered incoherently into his hip. 

“Oh, Donald, oh, lad, oh Donald, I thought we lost you, I thought that you had-“ His Uncle was repeating a mantra, that he usually only remembered in times of hazes of pain from his younger years. Uncle Scrooge was grown adult though and he needed to stop this. 

“Uncle Scrooge! Scrooge!” His uncle finally clamped his bill shut at the furious tone presented to him. He didn’t release his tight grip though, which irritated Donald more. “I don’t need to go to the hospital! I’m-“ 

“You just had a seizure for five straight minutes, you bampot! Who knows what kind of-“ 

“-because, I’m fine! I’m fine! Stop yelling at me and just-“ Donald was suddenly thrown back into the intrusive feeling of being another. He was screaming, screaming as his wing was twisted further and further from the point it was meant to be. It snapped with no warning. His screaming ceased all together, eyes wide from shock. Suddenly the pain hit him like a freight train. He squawked at the top of his lungs, voice cutting out when it hit a note too high. After all, Panchito was the one that always did the high notes. But, not him, Jose always was the one to do the low tones, while- 

Panchito was trying not to give up his search, but staring at the bright stars above, deep in the mountains, he felt as though he were too late. He kept having visions of his friend-his love-when he held the amulet close to his heart. He felt as though Jose could have never survived the tidal waves of pain that washed over him each time he succumbed to a vision. But, Donald had always survived being all the battles he endured while he was the- 

Duck Avenger could feel himself gurgling out the blood crudely filling his lungs. Bubbles of red spilled from his bill, eyes unable to focus on the frantic calling of his name. He only knew that Uno couldn’t do anything to save him, it was too late, he was dying, actually dying. But, he always thought that everytime his luck would turn sour, that he was finally dying, that the blood was turning as red as Panchito’s feathers, as the time he had- 

Been thrown from the bull, unable to stay on, as his legs exploded in pain, breaking-poking out of his-he couldn’t even finish the thought, hearing himself curse out a string of broken Spanish as he realized he wouldn’t be bouncing back up in an instant. That his Mami and Papa has seen him be thrown in only five seconds from the bull during the contest he worked so hard to train for. He heard the music of the fiesta continue on in the background, though he thought he could hear a flute playing, though had to be his imagination, because he hadn’t quite met- 

Jose sat in the pale moonlight beside Donald and Panchito, using his umbrella to play out a tune for the pair. He could see the happiness in their eyes, feeling his heart soar at the thought of them making sweet music together- 

“Oh my god, oh my god, you’re having a seizure! You’re having a seizure! What do I do, what do I do-“ He could hear Della reaching a fever pitch of fear in her tone. 

He reached up to her, grasping hold of her thin wrist to soothe her. The hysteria in her tone paused, Della sitting over him and staring at his eyes with tears welling in them. He inhaled deeply, feeling as though his lungs were too small. He releasing a hacking noise, allowing the blood to dribble out onto his already dirty feathers beside his cheek. “Bem...bem...visions...only visions...“ 

“Wha-You-wha?” Della elegantly choked out.

Jose gently patted her hand, making her remember the first time they had met all those years ago. He had been smooth, taking her hand into his own, pressing a kiss to it with the passion of anyone of his culture. She had briefly forgotten her brother only introducing them only moments before, as she had been charmed, until her twin swatted the parrot’s hand furiously. Della had found herself laughing at the face Donald made, as though he were a jealous lover-“You need not worry, Donald. While beauty obviously runs in your your family, I only have eyes for you.”

Della has stared in surprise when her brother blushed beat red at those smooth words. She hadn’t any doubt of Donald’s sexuality until that moment. “Wait, hold on, Donald are you...are you two dating?”

Jose turned to her with a smile, embracing Donald into his loving hold. “Sim, sim. What else did you believe this to be?”

Donald only turned more red at the words. He growled as though he was angrier than he actually was. “I told you that I wanted to tell her on my own!”

“Oh, then I suppose I shouldn’t mention Panchito then.”

“Whose Panchito?” 

Donald smacked his boyfriend in the arm, while Jose released a low chuckle at the action. “Oh, only our boyfriend.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You have more than one boyfriend?!”

Of course, all these years later though, it seemed that the parrot was a different person entirely. He seemed hesitant now, as though he needed to be reassured that his existence wasn’t bothering her, compared to that seductive, smooth animal she had first encountered. It made her concerned, because animals don’t just change like that without reason, and she had cared about Jose. They had become close in the year they had know each other before her disappearance to the moon. Della squeezed his hands in her own. A comforting gesture, which seemed to ease his tense shoulders. “How...How long have you been here?” 

He stared at her during a long moment of silence. “I...I do not know...” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Can not...remember...do not even know...where I am?” 

Della shifted, allowing him to rest his head on her swollen, numb leg. “Uh, I think we’re still in Alaska, but I was knocked out when they bringing me here, so I’m not completely sure to be honest.” 

His eyes widened, snapping up to cling to her arms with alarm. She flinched when she felt her damaged arm clenched in such a tight grip. A hiss was released from her bill without control as he hoarsely whispered into her face. “A-Alaska?” 

“Uh, long story why I’m here, but I’m a lot more confused why you’re here and...” She reached out to his face, brushing aside his feathers to see his eyes more clearly. He flinched violently, though he didn’t scramble away from her this time. Despite this, she felt guilty at what she had unintentionally done. “Uh, sorry...I didn’t mean to scare you...” 

Jose didn’t respond, rolling onto his side to curl up into himself with a faint trembling of his frame that she felt jostle her sore body. She glanced around the room, spotting the toilet, and sink in the opposite corner of the room. She gulped, before venturing a hesitant question. “Uh, d-do you want me to groom your feathers? No offense, but it doesn’t really look like you’ve done that for a long time.” 

He twisted his head and peaked at her with one eye. “...g-groom?” 

“Or, er, if you prefer to preen yourself on your own instead...I know some animals are kinda offended by others doing it. Don’s always been testy about it in the past and well...” 

There was an awkward pause, Della regretting that she had asked now, when he whispered quietly to her. “If...if that is not trouble for you...” 

Della beamed at him, confidence back instantly. “Of course it’s not! I know all I have is some water and my jacket, but at the very least I can get some of that blood out...” 

Jose rolled his head off of her leg without prodding and she one hand to pull herself up with the bars behind her. Della’s leg was the size of a balloon, but since she could no longer feel it she hardly cared. She felt as though something you could feel-like dirty feathers-was a more important task. After all, it was clear Jose had suffered much longer than she had here. When she reached the sink, she found herself panting from the strain. She drenched her jacket in water from the faucet, knowing that the damage previously done to it was irreversible now, and that she would have to get a new one. Might as well put it to good use. When she returned Jose hadn’t moved a muscle, but she decided to give him a warning with a soothing voice before she would touch him. “Let me know if anything hurts...you have a lot of blood on you, so I’m a little nervous I’m going to hurt one of your other wounds.” 

She gently wiped at a chunk of what appeared to be mold on his feathers. While she thought it was disgusting to have to scrub at that, she didn’t voice it. Jose has always been the cleanest bird she had known and was certain he wouldn’t want to know how bad he appeared at the moment. She didn’t expect his soft voice to speak up. “...they are old....cicatrizes...” 

“I’m glad you don’t have anything that’s open..I think...I might have to pluck a few out though. Some of them look really crooked and broken. It’s going to sting a bit...I wish we had some painkillers, but I feel like we should get these out before you have any lasting damage.” 

“...n-nao...n-no more pain...” 

Della’s heart ached at the words. “It would make it hurt less later though. I can’t imagine how much it stings right now, but it will get better if I remove some.”

“...p-please...be quick...”

The duck could feel a heavy weight across her shoulders at the whimper she received. It wouldn’t been quick and they both knew so. Still, she tried her best to give a warning for the pain, before plucking the first one from his form. He squawked out a tune of pain she had rarely heard in her life. She shivered at the sound, feel worse. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...it’s going to be ok, you’ll feel better soon.”

Of course, what she was doing was a show of his trust to her, one she didn’t believe she had a right to. This was what lovers or the closet of siblings or even what parents would do to their children. Or what even others did in the privacy of their own homes. She wanted to think of Jose as someone important though. After all, he had been so good to her brother, and she had grown so close to her after they spent so much time drinking late into the night. In fact, Jose-along with Panchito-was the reason that when Donald returned home, and that the two siblings had grown close together once more. If it weren’t for them, Donald would have become a stranger. 

Della could see the scars, hidden beneath the plumage of his overgrown feathers, gasping at distorted shape of them. She pulled herself away for a moment, feeling ill. His smell was too much, too dirty for her, too ripe, too much like the smell of rotting blood to her nostrils. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, before turning back to the parrot. She owed Jose, owed him at least this much for bringing Donald and Della back together. 

Of course, she had expressed this in the past already to him. Tears streaming down her face, drink in her hands. Jose watched her tilt uncontrollably out of her seat with a worried expression. She knew she was completely unhinged at this stage, drunk from too much whiskey sloshing in her glass. Her thoughts were swirling in her head, mocking her. She hiccuped loudly to begin, before her slurring words were released. “D-Don...I know Don didn’t want to come back and you guys...you guys convinced him to...you got him to come back...”

“Della, I do not believe we can take all of the credit in this instance. I think Donald missing you was a larger motivator.” He mused, swirling his red wine in his glass.

“S-Still...he’s so ducking stubborn...He-He would had-hick-never came home...never, never...I...thought I would never, never...see him...missed him so much...” She was weeping, allowing Jose’s gloved hand to smooth down her back.

“He knew that. You know, he would-he would sometimes...” Jose’s voice went soft, hesitant, before he plowed forward. “Sometimes he would cry at night about you...he wanted to go home for a long time...”

She stared at him in disbelief. “W-What? N-No way...I don’t...hick...believe that for a second...”

“It is true though! He would...oh, por favor, do not tell him I breathed a single word of this, but he would...sometimes call the mansion, and just listen to you and Senhor McDuck become upset with all the random phone calls, if only to hear your voices for but a moment.” 

Della felt her glass tumble from her hands with no warning, the pair flinching at the resounding shatter of glass. She could hardly care though, as she recalled the gasping noises the random phone calls would have on the other end. The noises that she now realized were her brother trying to stifle the sound of his own weeping. Jose wrapped his arms around her gently, embracing her in a hold as she processed this. “Della, it is ok...it is ok, you will feel better soon...”

The duck believed him, allowing him to comfort her in her time of need. It wouldn’t be the last time, no, not by far, as she had come to him many more times later in her life. Now though, now in their cold, cramped cell, was the first time he seeked comfort back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it hurt as much as it hurts to read what I did to Storkules. Is anyone even surprised though? Storkules is clearly a animal version of Hercules, which Hera notoriously despised in Greek mythology, so of course I had to continue that theme. This is the first time he’s full on realizing the extent of her hatred and that will definitely change things for him.
> 
> I hope Jose wasn’t too out of character in this though. I’ve stated that Panchito had been searching for Jose for at least a year by that point, so I feel as though after going what he had been through that amount of time, a change in attitude was necessary. I also wanted his relationship with Della to seem plausible as possible in this. I was going for a great friendship, that even borderlined being siblings for them. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the kudos and comments! I truly appreciate the love you all show Castaway and definitely keeps me motivated to finish this story. Thank you!!
> 
> Portuguese Translations:
> 
> Nao  
No
> 
> Bem  
Good
> 
> Sim  
Yes
> 
> Cicatrizes  
Scars, mark, blemish
> 
> Por favor  
Please
> 
> Senhor  
Mister


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Blood and descriptions of violence in the last scene of the chapter.

When Donald woke he squinted against the blinding light surrounding him. He groaned as the sound of a steadily beeping heart monitor reached his ears. The beat immediately began to pick up speed once he realized he was no longer in the mansion and where he actually was. They actually brought him to the hospital, even after he told them not to do so. They worried, even though he said-he thought about the amulet and his eyes shot open. “The amulet?! Where is it?!”

“He’s awake, Uncle Donald’s awake!” Dewey gasped to the left of his bed.

Donald rolled his head to the side to see him sitting there and then noticed Louie sitting by the window with his phone in hand. He hastily shoved it in his pocket once he realized what his brother was talking about. The duck was already stumbling over a chair in the way between them, while Huey surprised him by appearing on his right, already wrapping his arms around his chest before the other two could join in. He didn’t have to wait long for them to practically tackle him in a desperate embrace. He sighed wearily, though he secretly enjoyed the attention from his boys. “Boys, I’m fine! I’m alright, you don’t need to be crying over me. I need to know where my-boys! Hey, where is my amulet?”

They were all sobbing over him already however, blubbering about how they were glad he was alright, brushing off Donald’s protests. Between the three, Huey was the only coherent one, explaining what had occurred with a trembling voice. “Y-You had a seizure for over eight minutes and then you passed out!”

Donald sighed at the red hatted triplet. “Huey, it wasn’t a seizure. I know you three are worried, but I need to know where my amulet is?”

“Who cares about the amulet!” Louie blurted into his ear, causing Donald to cringe at the volume of noise. “T-The lady on the phone was saying you were having a s-s-seizure!”

“Louie, I’m fine. It’s just-“ He knee he couldn’t provide exact details, but he needed to reassure them that he was fine. “-I have visions sometimes when I have the amulet with me. I need to know where it is right now.”

That ceased all sound for a brief moment from the trio, before they pulled away with wide eyes. Suddenly he was met with an onslaught of overlapping questions, which made his heart monitor noisily sound off due to his irritation. “Hold on, hold on! I’ll answer your questions in awhile! Where’s Uncle Scrooge though? I need to talk to him about the amulet.”

Dewey wiped at his eyes. “H-He has it with him. He went to see Launchpad and Drake down the hall.”

“And you didn’t want to go with him?”

“I mean I do, but I wanted to see that you were okay first, Uncle Donald.”

Donald felt his heart swell at the words, happiness overwhelming him due to the fact that his son thought that he was top priority. He looked to Huey and Louie, the pair both nodded to confirm their worries. He squeezed them all tight to his chest. “Really, I’m fine, boys. I’m sorry I worried the three of you, but I can promise you everything is going to be ok.”

“Are you sure? You were acting all funny and it was...it was really scary...” Louie sounded much younger than he actually was, expression hesitant.

“It...it really did look like you were having a seizure...” Huey sounded equally concerned.

Donald shook his head. “I’m fine, but I need to go get my amulet-“

“NO!” The triplets screamed in unison as he pulled his IV needle out, and attempted to remove the heart monitor from his body. Louie was squeezing his right hand and Dewey held his left to prevent him from doing anymore damage to himself. Huey was pressing the “CALL NURSE” button repeatedly.

The sailor pulled his hands away and eyed the doorway. “I don’t need the nurse! I need to get outta here and get my amulet from Uncle Scrooge. I think Jose is in trouble and that can help me find him!”

The nurse chose that moment to enter the room, much to Donald’s dismay. She presented him with a polite smile, approaching his bedside. The triplets relaxed, as though they expected her to somehow take control of the situation. “Mr. Duck, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m going to call the doctor to come in to take a look at your condition. Do you need water or anything?”

”I don’t need a doctor at all. I want to be discharged, since I don’t need to be here at all.”

The nurse gasped. “Oh my, we need to get the doctor in here immediately! You’re speech seems to be impeded greatly! I can’t understand a single word you’re say-

She cut herself off at the panicked face Dewey presented her, performing a slashing motion across his neck to silence the nurse. Huey grimaced and placed his face into his palm. Louie sighed at her, watching Donald’s face turn a deep shade of red, anger beginning to coarse through his veins. “Oh boy.”

The nurse learned that day what happens when you reference Donald Duck’s speech impediment.

*

As Scrooge approached the hospital room, he could distantly heated and mumbled conversation. He could recognize Darkwing distantly, though he hadn’t ever heard the tone the duck was using. He raised an eyebrow, before knocking on the door in warning, and then opening it. He caught a glimpse of Launchpad leaning over Darkwing’s bed, a hand rested gently on the edge, with the hero’s bill directly next to the pilot’s neck. They jerked away from one another instantly, with Launchpad wrapping a scarf quickly around his neck. The billionaire froze at the sight, uncertain if he had caught them in what he could guess to be an intimate moment. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment, a rare sight for Scrooge McDuck. “Er, sorry, hadn’t realized that I had waltzed into...er...”

The pair frowned in confusion at the words. Then Darkwing’s cheeks turned a bright color as he realized what Scrooge implied. He shook his head rapidly, voice a high squeak. This was the tone he was typically greeted with when he met with the younger duck. “Wait, we weren’t-I mean I wasn’t-we weren’t doing anything!“

Scrooge waved a hand at him, glad it wasn’t what he thought the situation to be. “Lad, you’re alright...just glad to see you awake.”

After a terse moment of awkwardness, the smaller duck calmed down, glancing briefly at Launchpad with a flaming face. The pilot tilted his head, squinted with confusion still. “Nevermind what he said, LP. I’m glad to be awake, too, Mr. McDuck, even though I’m pretty sore right now.”

Scrooge frowned, taking in his bandaged body. “They gave you narcotics for the pain, haven’t they?”

Darkwing flushed and avoided eye contact. “Um...no, not really...just some low grade painkillers...”

“Do you need one of us to get them to raise your dosage? It shouldn’t be much trouble to-“

He appeared nearly pained as he replied tensely. “I...I can’t...” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m...I’m, uh...a recovering addict.”

The billionaire stared at him with wide eyes, hadn’t expecting those words to spill from Darkwing’s bill. Of all people to be a former drug addict of any sort, Darkwing Duck was definitely the last person he had expected to be one. He looked to Launchpad to confirm the words and he was met with a silent nod. It appeared it was true that he had some trouble in the past. He looked back to the hero with an awkward smile, uncertain how to proceed with his words. “I-“

“Mr. McDuck, you don’t need to say anything.” Darkwing cut him off with a grimace, as though predicting that the billionaire were about to say the worse thing.

Scrooge nodded thankfully. “Thank you, lad...Er, how are your injuries? I see that your arm is in a sling and I heard from a nurse that you were in surgery for...being impaled?”

“Uh, yes, I impaled by a-“ Darkwing shifted uncomfortably. “-chainsaw, which luckily wasn’t actually on. It went directly through my spleen and I’m likely to have a long time to heal internally.“

“I’m just glad to see your alive and awake,” Scrooge still couldn’t compute how exactly a chainsaw had impaled him, but he had a more pressing concern that worried him. “Where has Gosalyn gone off to though?”

Darkwing’s expression briefly flickered to guilt. “I sent her back to where she would be safe at the orphanage.”

“And why exactly wouldn’t she be safe here?”

He was startled when a dark, nearly intimidating look overshadowed his face. In the year he had known the hero, he had never once seen such an expression. Darkwing clenched his good hand in a tight grip and his voice came out in a gritted tone. “_He_ went after her and if Launchpad wasn’t there then she could have been...“

Scrooge felt himself pale, unaware that someone had gone after her. He turned to the pilot for his reaction about the incident with a frown, realizing the other had been silent the entire conversation. Rarely, if ever, were they in a situation that he would be unwilling to speak as he had been the past few minutes. “Launchpad, why are you so quiet?”

Launchpad shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, though it was obvious he was anxious by the question. Darkwing was making direct eye contact with the pilot looking as though he were about to start pleading with the vigilante. He squeezed Launchpad’s hand in a painful grip and growled.“You need to show what that sickly, scheming Starling did!”

Scrooge felt a bell of recognition ring in his head at the name, but couldn’t quite place it. The pilot hung his head, and before the older duck could ask about the words, Launchpad was beginning to remove his scarf. The plumage of his feathers across his neck were ruffled, his skin underneath partly showing. Dark, purplish bruises in the shape of hands were painted around his thick neck. It was a surprise that he wasn’t in a hospital bed of his own due to the swollen bruises spread across the muscled area.

Scrooge’s eyes widened at the sight and his bill parted open. In all the years he had the pilot assist in his adventures and even at times fight against his arch enemies, had Scrooge had ever seen such a violent evidence of a previous attack against him. A snarl ripped it’s way from his throat and he waved his cane in the air. “Who dares-WHO DARES TOUCH MY FAMILY! WHO DARES STRANGLE-“

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. McDuck. He’s going to pay for what he’s done to Launchpad and what he tried to do to Gosalyn.” Scrooge didn’t think that he was capable of it until that very moment, but Darkwing looked murderous, as though he wanted to do the very thing that was done to his own boyfriend.

Launchpad’s hand reached out to take hold of the clenched fist and his broken voice crackled out. “_Drake_.”

Darkwing startled and flushed when he realized Scrooge was staring at him in open surprise. “Oh! Mr. McDuck, I’m so sorry! I know I can be kinda intense sometimes and I didn’t mean anything by that at all!”

Scrooge smirked at him, having recovered from the shock. He supposed there was a reason that Darkwing Duck was considered the Dark Avenger by some. “Oh, lad, I think you did mean something, and I hope you truly do make the animal that did this pay. No one messes with the McDuck clan and gets away with it!”

Darkwing-Drake-appeared flustered for a moment, before laughing awkwardly. “You would think by now that people would have learned their lesson, but your family always seems to be attacked all hours of the day.”

“Aye, even when all they are doing is protecting innocent, young lasses from criminals!”

Drake jolted and then he pointed at himself with his good hand. “Wait-I-you consider me-?”

“Of course, Drake! Family doesn’t always end in blood. You count as one of the McDuck clan and you’ll be treated as such,” He rested a hand on Launchpad’s shoulder and leaned in to stare Darkwing in the eyes with a dark expression. “Now, since you are family, you’re going to tell me exactly who has to pay for what they’ve done.”  
*

“-and then they found Donald on some island in the middle of nowhere. He was a living like he was Tarzan or something and was kinda a little...unhinged, I guess is the best word,” Della explained, straightening one of Jose’s crooked feathers, as he wheezed out a moan out in pain. “Of course, they brought him home, but his...he's kinda like me now. He’s, uh...missing a leg.”

“What?” José gasped due to his surprise and the stinging.

Della cringed at the tone. “He, uh, apparently had a piece of metal from the ship crush his leg during the accident, and he couldn’t get out. He hasn’t exactly told me, but after what I had to do with my hunting knife on the moon, I’m pretty certain...I’m pretty certain he had to do the same thing to survive.”

“Oh, Donald...meu pobre amigo...” The parrot sounded mournful, trailing off into a series of unknown Portuguese rolling off his tongue. He trembled and Della decided to return to wiping down his grimy feathers, instead of continuing to pluck the bad ones out. It was clear he needed a break from the overwhelming grooming. She rubbed a hand across the top of his head to comfort, afraid that touching him anywhere else would hurt.

“He’s ok...he’s getting a prosthetic like me pretty soon, so that issue is going to be fixed. And he’s seeing a therapist...” Though she didn’t know if that was helping. She pulled away from Jose, feeling the anger about her brother beginning to return. Why was he trying to start a custody battle over her sons? She didn’t know what the year on the island made him think, but he was definitely thinking about things the wrong way. She didn’t understand how in his right mind he thought what he was doing to Dewey was alright. Acting like she was the one messing everything up!

“Why-“ His voice was hoarse, broken from his sobbing. “Why are you not...wheez, why are you not h-home?”

Della pulled herself from her thoughts. “I needed to be here, I needed to help...I’m helping a Goddess save the planet. I’m here with-“

“Xandra?” His voice sounded urgent.

“What? What’s a Xandra?”

He shook his head and mumbled to himself in Portuguese. After a moment, English reached her ears. “Misspoke...who are you helping?”

“Uh, Hera. She’s Storkules’...” She sighed heavily. “She’s Zeus’ wife, the Goddess of-“

“-Home and Hearth.”

“You already know about her?”

Jose shrugged. “She is...Storkules’ stepmother?”

“Uh, yeah, but she’s a complete and total bi-“

Jose covered her mouth with his hand, shaking his head. “It does no good to insult those with power.”

Della pulled his hand away with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, that’s basically what Storkules said too, but I’m not afraid of her. I’ve already insulted her to her face and yeah, she was pissy, but she didn’t smite me where I stand, or whatever.”

Jose stared at her in surprise, before releasing a familiar chuckle. “Della Duck, you truly can do anything.”

“Yeah, well, apparently that isn’t true, because ever since I returned from the moon people just love to prove me wrong.” Apparently she couldn’t just be a mother that loved her children as they were own, since they actually were.

Jose didn’t reply to the words, though she could tell from the confusion in his eyes he couldn’t understand what she was referring to. Della resumed her task of cleaning his feathers the best to her ability and didn’t provide any further insight to her own words. The parrot continued to make a series of pained hisses, but never once told her to stop what she was doing during the long minutes she continued. He blurted out his next words, making them seem as though they hurt as much as the feathers did. “D-Donald is upset at Panchito and I.”

The duck raised an eyebrow. “About what? Was it something you two did last time you guys met up with him and the boys?”

”Nao; He is currently upset we did not make any attempt to find him during his death or at the very least go to his...funeral.”

“How do you know his funeral we had? I never told you that at all.”

He waved a hand as though it didn’t matter much. “Never mind how I have this knowledge. I would like you...I would like you to allow him to know that I was unable to do so, as I believe I was here during the attempts of contact.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself when you get out of here?”

Jose stilled and she once more ceased her grooming. She was met with dulled eyes, the life drained from them. His voice was low, exhausted, nearly devoid of emotion. “I am afraid I can never leave here.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Storkules is coming to rescue us pretty soon here, so you don’t have to worry about anything at all. He has super strength! It’s pretty easy for him to break through whatever battles he has to face to get to us. Then, you get to go back home, and you can explain anything you can manage to remember to Donald.”

“...Della, I remember everything.”

She beamed. “That’s great that you can remember now! Why don’t you tell me how you got here? It might help you feel better a little bit to get some of it off of your chest and to-“

He reached out to her, grasping hold of her hands as best as he could, for they trembled violently. “...those that have power over you, control your actions, Della...I can never leave here, as they have control over me.”

“I don’t...understand...“ Della felt chills roll up her spine at the words.

“This is complicated, but my mamãe...she has...we have magia in your blood...I have it...but, it can be taken away though and controlled if one wishes it so. Those that wield one’s magic, have control of their essence of life.”

“Magic? You have magic? Wait, you’re staying they have control over you, Over your...‘essence of life’? What do you mean about that?”

Before Jose answered, the pair jolted when there was a loud slam of a door shutting outside the cell. Around the corner the pair of dogs that had beat Della earlier appeared. The parrot gasped fearfully at the sight and they unlocked the cell. Della positioned herself in front of her friend, realizing Jose was frightened by them. She wouldn’t allow them to hurt him! The Shepard reached out to grab Della by the shoulder and brutally shoved her aside. “Hey!”

He reached out to Jose, who went limp immediately in his grip. Della surged forward from the ground to stop him, but the Rottweiler kicked her in her wound with no hesitation. Her vision whited our briefly, leaving her breathless at the intense pain. Jose was dragged by the plumage of feathers on the back of his head across the floor, not fighting back in the least as he was pulled out of the cell. Della screamed at the dog with all of her might through her swimming tears in her eyes. “Where are you taking him, asshole?! Stop! I said stop!”

She struggled to sit back up, only for the Rottweiler to stomp on her chest. She choked on her cries and her vision went dark while she watched Jose be dragged away to the unknown. The last thing she saw was his blank eyes, the will to survive clearly vanished without a trance. 

*

It might have been minutes, hours, or even days for that matter, but when Della woke she felt an immense sense of dread for her friend. She pounded on the cold metal bars, shouting obscenities at her captors. She demanded they returned Jose, threatened them, demanded a trade, pleaded with them, everything she could think of. They didn’t return when she wanted them though. After what was evidently hours, she finally gave up on trying to make them return.

The duck’s throat felt parched and her stomach pained from hunger. No one was coming to relieve her of either issue though. She sat there silently, beginning to pray for Jose’s safety. Then, she began to wonder where Storkules was. Why hadn’t he come to rescue her? Was he alright? He was demigod with the power of strength at his disposal, surely he could have managed escape by this point. She couldn’t even imagine him leaving her behind though. Maybe he was actually in trouble, even if she couldn’t even begin to guess what had gone wrong.

Della was pulled from her thoughts when she heard someone return, before the Rottweiler appeared. He was dragging Jose’s body by his leg, a trail of blood smearing across the concrete floor. Her heart dropped and she grasped the bars in a furious grip. She snarled at him as the cell door opened. “What have you done to him, you no good, rotten bastard!”

He growled at her. “You better shut your mouth or I’m gonna shut it for you!”

“As soon as I get out of here I’m going to-“

“What? Kick me with your broken leg?” He laughed at her, slamming the cell shut, and locking the pair back in. “Hope you enjoy the cell, bitch.”

“What did you call me?!” He walked away with a smirk on his face and she slammed her hands against the bars. “I dare you to say that to me again! Come back here! Stop ignoring me, you bastard!”

“D-Della...” Jose wheezed weakly, the puddle of blood spreading out to touch her now.

Della ceased her threats and hovered above her friend in worry. She couldn’t see his injuries under all of the ruffled feathers and blood. The amount spilling from him was alarming though. “Shit! Where are you hurt?! I need to patch you up before you bleed out!”

“...is...fine...magia...magia...” He sounded a tad hysterical and Della could hardly understand what he was whispering about.

“Jose, please, just tell me where you’re hurt! Just tell me, please! You’re going to d-d-die!”

“...my essence is healing...healing...me...” He whispered, before going lax, and silent.

She rested her hand on top of his head, sobbing over his broken body. She didn’t quite understand, but she knew Jose wouldn’t lie to her about something like this. She gasped when she saw a haze of darknesss glitter across his body, before evaporating into the air. Whatever healing that he spoke of seemed to be working, as the wheezing noise he had been making drifted off. The duck wiped at her tears. There wasn’t any use crying over Jose. “Ok, pull yourself to together! He’s going to be alright!”

They needed to get out of here though. Why was she even waiting for Storkules to show up? Since it obvious he wasn’t coming, she needed to search for him, and rescue her old friend in the process. Della needed an escape plan. “Don’t worry Jose, we’re going to get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone, Happy Spooky Month! In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve added that is now part of a series set in the Castaway Universe. I’m nearly done with the first chapter of it, but I have a side story that’s in the same universe as this story, and fills in some holes for a certain character I have a lot of love for. I should be able to get in out in the next few days here for you all to enjoy!
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos, and the comments! They always make me feel happy to receive both and know that people out there actually enjoy the stories I write. See you next time!
> 
> Translations in Portuguese:
> 
> Meu pobre amigo  
My poor friend
> 
> Nao  
No
> 
> Mamãe  
Mama


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: A panic attack and dissociation directly after Donald’s secret.

When Scrooge had told the boys he would be back briefly, having planned on visiting Drake in his hospital room down the hall, he hadn’t expected to return to find his nephew absolutely destroying his own room, the nurse having fled from the disaster. Then again, what did he expect leaving Donald Duck in a hospital the sailor specifically told them not to bring him to. He would do it again in a heartbeat though, so he had no regrets despite the cost likely being raised to an higher price than it was likely before. After staring for a long moment, Scrooge entered the room with a weary sigh, watching the boys all exchanging looks of exasperation with one another. “What set him off this time?”

They seemed to relax slightly when their great-uncle entered the room, as though they expected him to somehow calm him down. Louie was the one to answer with a roll of his eyes. “The nurse thought there was something wrong because of his...speech.”

The trio tensed when Louie whispered the last word, but Donald continued on as he was, throwing a picture from the wall across the room. Dewey glared at his brother in the green hoodie. “You’re lucky Uncle Donald didn’t hear you! It would have just made it a thousand times worse.”

“I’m not certain how much worse it can get than this.” Huey added in.

“Likely when Donald notices I’m here and-“

“UNCLE SCROOGE!” Donald screamed out to interrupt the billionaire. Scrooge cringed at the sound and watched his nephew hobble across the room with one crutch in his possession. Where was his other one? The billionaire knew this was definitely going to escalate into an arugement in a few seconds, even though all he wanted to do was embrace his nephew. After all, only hours before he thought he had lost him once again. He just wanted to feel with his own hands that he was alright. Perhaps he should- “Where’s my amulet?!”

Scrooge blinked. The amulet? He wasn’t expecting that to be the first topic at hand. “You mean that ghastly necklace we left behind at the mansion?”

“The mansion? We need to leave, now.” Donald was already heading to the door behind him, leaving behind his other crutch without a care. If Scrooge wasn’t so concerned as to Donald suddenly leaving his hospital room, he would have commented on how well the sailor was getting at walking now. He stood in front of the doorway, blocking his exit. “Wait a moment now, lad! You can’t just leave right now!” 

“Uncle Donald, wait! You’re in serious condition and you can’t leave until the doctor clears you!” Huey was vibrating with anxiety, standing directly behind Donald.

“Move, Uncle Scrooge.” Donald commanded, eyes narrowed. “Uncle Donald, please, just come back.” Louie pleaded, voice desperate. Donald glanced over his shoulder briefly at the duck in the green hoodie. He shook his head a moment later and continued to plow forward however. It was obvious he planned on simply shoving Scrooge out of his path.

“Donald, you need to go lay back down. You’re not well at the moment.” Scrooge placed a hand onto his nephew’s shoulder, but was surprised when the hand was thrown back off.

The younger duck glowered at him in response. “I don’t need to be here! I need to go back home and grab my amulet and-“

He went silent and didn’t finish his sentence. That was awfully suspicious. It was evident he didn’t plan on fully explain himself. He needed Donald to elaborate though. The billionaire raised an eyebrow. “Why do you need that dingy gem so much? You seem to be awfully fixed on it, more than your own health.”

“Please, Uncle Donald, I know you said you’re ok, but I don’t really think you are.” Dewey was standing beside him now, fingers twiddling anxiously. It was odd to see his son so nervous.

“I know you said that you suffered visions, but this is really serious. The doctor needed to be certain you didn’t sustain any...damage that may have made you believe that-“ Huey was beginning to ramble on, explaining this process delicately.

Scrooge spluttered at the words Huey said, cutting him off in confusion. “Visions? Wait a moment now, what’s all this about visions? You don’t typically have any of that happening in your day to day life!”

Donald eyes flicked to a distance over Scrooge’s shoulder for a moment, frowning. His fingers tapped rapidly against the hand grip of his crutch. He was thinking, as though trying to decide carefully on what he would say next. It was very out of character for his nephew to be trying to filter his thoughts in a situation like this. He was hiding something and Scrooge didn’t like it a bit. “What’s going on with you, lad?”

Donald was staring directly ahead, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes had gone unfocused, as though becoming distracted suddenly. He opened his bill, only to release a choking noise. Huey gasped at the pained sound. “Uncle Donald, what’s wrong?!”

Scrooge’s hand reached out, gripping Donald’s shoulder in a tight grip in case he decided to pass out. Couldn’t allow him to fall to the floor. The sailor’s eyes refocused and snapped his bill shut, before reopening it to speak slowly. “I need that amulet, for an...for something I need to...solve. I didn’t have a seizure, but I did have some visions that I sometimes have when I hold that amulet. I...want to say more, but I...shouldn’t.”

They way Donald spoke was stifled and he seemed to want to say other words, but obviously couldn’t. He was acting a bit like...Storkules did with his curse. Scrooge’s eyes widened. A curse. Did Donald have one? He felt a cold sweat breakout on his neck, worried about how long his nephew had possibly had one. The notion made his stomach churn. It seemed as though Huey came to the same conclusion, since he asked as much. “Do you have a curse on you?”

Donald frowned at him. “What? No, I don’t have a curse on me, what are you even talking about?”

“I mean, you seem as though you can’t say precisely what you want to and you’re not elaborating on what exactly you mean about your visions. Plus, you’re acting as though you're hiding something.”

Scrooge was always amazed about how aware Huey was and how well he could expose the contents of a situation. It was moments as these that reminded him how proud he was to have the duck in the red hat as part of his family. Donald stared at Huey for a long moment and then his eyes flicked back over Scrooge’s shoulder. Donald’s feathers were glistening in sweat, his eyes full of frustration. He was staring at something. Scrooge glanced over his own shoulder into the hallway, revealing nothing unusual. He turned back to Donald. “What are you hiding, Donald?”

Donald’s eyes flickered back to him, clearly pained. “Uncle Scrooge, I can’t.”

“You know, I’m becoming real weary of you using that same excuse you always use when I ask you about what you’ve been hiding lately.” 

The sailor glanced down at Huey who stared at him with scrunizing eyes as well. He’s wicked his head to Louie, who stood there with worry in his eyes, and Dewey who confusion was painted on his face. The billionaire rubbed a comforting thumb into his collarbone. “Lad, please, we just would like to make sense of your behavior. Why are you so worried about that silly necklace, instead of your an health? I think if you let us know what exactly is happening, it would help you get back on track with your recovery. ”

“Please, I can’t tell you, I would like to, but I really can’t-“ Donald gasped a shaky breath, tears welling in his eyes. “-tell you, I really can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” Dewey spewed furiously. His face was red and his chest was heaving harshly. “You keep saying you can’t and I know that’s bullcrap! You can’t just scare the hell out of us like that and then just run off!”

Donald’s face spasmed painfully, before settling on guilt. “D-Dewey, I would, but I can’t-“

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Dewey suddenly shouted at him, punching the wall as hard as he could. All of them flinched in unison at the loud sound. They all held their breath as Dewey’s face turned a deeper hue of red. Donald was painfully reminded of himself. “STOP SAYING THAT AND JUST TELL US THE TRUTH! TELL US WHY!“

“I CAN’T!” Donald yelled back. “I can’t tell you anything! I wish I could, but I actually can’t say anything! So, if you would all just stop yelling at me and take me home, I would appreciate that!”

“Stop yelling, please, just stop yelling,” Louie butted in. His hoodie was pulled up over his head, hands buried in his pockets. “Look, let’s just go home. Uncle Donald wants to leave and I think we should.”

“Of course you do, of course you want to go home, instead of getting down to exactly what the problem is!” Dewey hissed.

“Dewey!” Scrooge scolded, staring with concern at the duck in the green hoodie begin to silently tear up.

“I’m tired of everyone just having secrets all of the time! I thought I could count on you to tell the truth, but you’re just hiding thing from me too!” Dewey continued on.

“You’re one to talk!” Huey suddenly snipped at him. “You and Webby lied about Mom for literally months!”

“You’re going to bring that up again?! I thought you guys forgave me for that forever ago! And now you’re just being pissed off at me again!”

“Please, for the love of God, I just want to go home!” Louie cried.

“I never stopped being upset about it! It doesn’t matter that it a over a year ago, because it’s still the most messed up thing you did to us! You’re acting like I’m a bad guy here though! Wasn’t I the one that defended you when Mom and Uncle Scrooge yelled at you during our last session? Apparently that meant nothing, because now you’re just attacking me for no reason now!”

“Boys, would you cease you’re yelling, one of the nurses is going to begin wondering-“ 

“No, Uncle Scrooge, I’m sick and tired of Dewey being so grouchy all of the time! You’ve been like this for months and you’re just making the rest of us miserable!” Huey shouted back at his other brother.

“I wouldn’t be so mad all the time, if everyone would stop treating me like shit!” Dewey cursed.

“Dewey.” Donald warned, already tired to watching this fight play out before him. Plus, Louie looked as though he was about to completely fall apart if everyone didn’t stop this. Dewey frowned at him, obviously not happy about the parental tone, but he didn’t speak any more.

“Lad, your Mother, and I didn’t mean to treat you the way we did, but we have been attempting to make amends.” Scrooge explain gently.

“Uncle Scrooge, just stop,” The sailor could see a shadow hovering at the end of the hallway, and the smell of roses hovered in the air. He steadily ignored it as continued to speak. “All you, knock it off now.” “Uncle Donald, no, I can’t just let Uncle Scrooge-urge-“ Dewey groaned, before directly his attention back to the billionaire. “That’s rich, you know? Is ‘making amends‘ why Mom yelled at me for being bad all the time! You know, that’s actually the last thing she said to me before she ditched us!“

“You are being bad, that’s why!” Louie shouted at him, tears streaming down his face. “You just want to fight all of the time now and none of us want this!”

“Louie!” Donald’s face turned a shade of red, not expecting his other son to actually join in on the drama.

“Maybe because fighting is apparently the only way to solve anything around here! The sessions sure as hell aren’t doing a thing! Never stopped Mom from yelling at me and giving me bruises!”

Huey’s hand covered his bill and he stared with wide eyes. “Y-You can’t-! She wouldn’t!” 

Scrooge’s hand clenched on his cane, suddenly feeling bad as he had completely forgotten the bruises that had previously been in Dewey’s arm. He had been so caught up on trying to figure out how to get Della back and helping Donald, addressing the issue had completely escaped his mind. “Lad, I know your mother hurt you, but I truly believed she only meant the best.” 

Huey gasped as he registered the words to be true. Louie was squatting down, burying his face into his lap. Dewey scoffed and turned away from this. “I really don’t believe that at all. And she isn’t my Mom anymore.“

“What?! Dude you can’t just say that!” Louie’s head snapped up, expression distraught. Huey looked aghast and couldn’t seem to speak. 

“Lad, that is a huge decision to suddenly make, and shouldn’t be taken lightly.“ 

“Uncle Scrooge, don’t. You’re making this worse, just stop.” Donald was shaking, trying to reign in his anger.

Scrooge continued on as though how never heard his nephew. “Perhaps it would be best to wait for Della to return and you two could speak-“

“No, you know what, no! I don’t need her, I already have the best parent in the world! Uncle Donald-he’s my Dad, and he always has been! He’s the one that raised me and made me who I am!” Dewey ranted, leaving the three staring at him in surprise at the words. “Isn’t that right?!” 

Donald, whom steadily been losing his temper, now stood there aghast. He hadn’t expected Dewey to go out and say that all of a sudden. With startling clarity, he realized he had made a grave error. In that moment he realized he should have had a conversation earlier with Huey and Louie about this. “I, uh...” “Oh, would you guys stop staring at him like that! It’s true and you know it!” Dewey yelled. “Lad, I think you simply need to calm down.” Scrooge attempted to reason with him. Donald was surprised that his uncle didn’t have any comments on the matter, considering his feelings about viewing Donald as a son. Donald knew this was extremely important, but he was becoming increasingly distracted by the hovering figure in the background, beckoning him forward. He couldn’t ignore it long, because otherwise the duck would find himself over there, whenever he wanted to or not. More importantly in his opinion, was Scrooge trying to diffuse a situation that he didn’t have a right to be involved with. These were his children and he needed to sort this on his own. “That’s it! Stop it, all of you right now. If I hear another peep out of any of you, you’re not going to like what I do.”

“See, boys, you need to cease this nonsense.” Scrooge added in with a nod.

Donald glared. “I was talking about you, too. You telling Dewey to calm down isn’t doing anything.”

“HA!” Dewey pointed at Scrooge with an expression of satisfaction.

“What did I just say?” Dewey covered his bill, eyes wide.

“Donald, I’m only trying to help-“

“No, you’re part of the issue at hand, ok?! We’re done with this, no more fighting!” He pointed at the boys. “You three, you’re going to head out to hall, and if I hear you guys fighting when I’m talking to Uncle Scrooge alone, you’re all going to be grounded. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Donald.” They all chorused, filing out the door one by one without another word of protest. Before the door shut, Dewey presented him a saddened expression, obviously worried he had done something wrong. Donald didn’t give away anything with his own expression, knowing he shouldn’t get his son’s hopes up that he wasn’t in trouble for everything he had said. Dewey looked away and quietly shut the door.

“You do know I’m actually the boys’ guardian, right?” Donald started, glowering at his uncle.

Scrooge gave him a bewildered look. “Of course. You have been years. Why would you think I believe otherwise?”

“Because, you keep talking to all of them like you did with Della and me. Like you’re they’re guardian, when you actually aren’t at all.”

“Donald, lad, I’m well aware they’re not, and er...I’m sorry if I overstepped any lines, but Dewey has been out of control for quite sometime now, and Huey and Louie are starting to become worked up as well because of that. I was just trying to help sort this out, but honestly this is starting to become quite the problem for the entire family.”

“Well, if you couldn’t fix the problem when I was young, then why do you think you can fix the issue with Dewey now?”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. “W-What? I never thought...”

“See, you can’t even finish that sentence. I know you thought I was when I was a teenager, in fact you probably still think it. You know, you should be really careful about what you say behind my back to Della, because you NEVER KNOW WHEN HER “PROBLEMATIC” BROTHER IS STANDING IN THE NEXT ROOM WHEN YOU SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!”

Scrooge gasped. “Oh, Donald, oh, lad, I never meant for you to hear that!”

“But I did! And you don’t understand how painful it is to hear from the duck raising you, that you’re a problem! You don’t understand what it feels like when’re you’re 15-years-old and you hear something about yourself like that WHEN YOU ALREADY HATE YOUR OWN GUTS!” He didn’t even care anymore that the boys could likely hear every word he shouted. 

Scrooge fell back into a chair next to Donald’s bedside, expression saddened. “I never meant for you to hear that. I just wanted to ask if Della knew what you were going through, because I wanted to help. I know we’ve never understood one another well, but I wanted to help any way I could when you were clearly suffering. I didn’t even think that could make you feel worse than you already did about yourself.”

“Well, you did make me feel like that, and I’ve had to deal with it for years. And honestly nothing you say is going to fix all that time I was hurting over you thinking that was nothing but a nuisance. Which is why I’m trying to be careful what I say to Dewey right now, so I don’t do the same thing that you did to me. Dewey is having personal issues that he can’t control anymore, because you all keep saying the wrong things to him! And, I personally understand why he’s being like this. Sometimes you were just mean to me for what I couldn’t tell was an actual reason.”

“I had a lot of issues, too, lad. I’ve worked through a lot of them recently, having to deal with years of repression I had. I know I did you wrong many times to you in the past, but I never could understand how to get through to you. You were so furious and secretive, which was just infuriating to me every time I tried to speak to you.”

Donald squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. The firm voice came out softer after a long moment of silence. “Donald, are you alright? You’re beginning to look a bit peaky. I thought you said you were fine.”

“...I-I’m fine,” He wasn’t, he really wasn’t. He was trying to work up the courage to say what he wanted to. They had promised to talk, to try reconnecting with one another. They were talking, even if it hurt, they were doing it. And he needed to Scrooge to understand. He deserved that much if they were going to repair the damage they had. “I promise...I’m just trying to...tell you something.”

He inhaled deeply, held it, and released it in the pattern he had been taught to calm his nerves. He was startled from his breathing when Scrooge began go speak from above him. He couldn’t recall sitting down on the edge of his hospital bed. “You know, when you were a sophomore in high school, I started to notice your issues were becoming worse. Your grades started to fall and you began to nod off at every opportunity you could. I know you weren’t sleeping well at night. I noticed when it got worse, lad. You started to yell more frequently and I saw an increase in those dots of anger. I did see all of that, but I didn’t know what to do.” Donald’s throat was so dry. His knew what question was coming next. “So, lad, what made your issues worse?”

He could feel his rising anxiety, swelling, pushing up against his rib cage with a vengeance. He just needed to say four words to answer. It was just four words. Why was it so hard to get out?! It was a secret, but it wasn’t his biggest one he had. He could do it. He hadn’t revealed such a big one to anyone in years, but if he couldn’t tell Scrooge, he knew he would never be able to tell anyone. “I...uh, I...”

“Donald, it’s ok. Just tell me. I promise you that I just want to understand. I just want to know why you were so troubled, why you currently are-“ His uncle was leaning forward, reaching out to hold his nephew’s hand.

“I’m the Duck Avenger.” Donald breathed out hoarsely. He then went off into a set of panicked breathes, hyperventilating when he realized what he had said. He heard his uncle saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear over the swooshing in his ears.

He couldn’t handle this already. His brain was already trying to protect itself, his breath coming to a shuddering stop. Things were becoming blurry and he couldn’t even understand why his hand hurt so much. As though someone were squeezing the life out of it. There was a hand squeezing his own, he could make it out though the haze of his tears pooling in his eyes. A hand was rubbing over his back repeatedly, a soothing motion, his anxiety already coming to a halt. It was the only thing he could focus on. Everything else as becoming distant.

He didn’t know when he started to whimper, but he had absolutely no control over it. He didn’t care. He wasn’t caring about anything anymore. Nothing mattered when it was this hazy, did it? He vaguely realized he was dissociating, but it didn’t matter in the least. He couldn’t find the energy to care, as nothing mattered any longer. Why would anyone care when what they’re doing wasn’t real at all?

He found his hands clenched into a coat, the bright red color reminding him of blood. The blood that coated his hands when he cut off his own leg. There had been so much of it. He couldn’t get it to stop. He wasn’t afraid though, since he didn’t feel a thing right now...no, that want true. He felt apathy. He had no emotions towards himself or towards anyone else. But, why were his hands still trembling if he didn’t care? Trembling meant he was having an emotional response. He was having a panic attack a second ago, what had happened?

That was real. A panic attack is real, dissociating was real, his confession had been real. He told his uncle. He told him he was the Duck Avenger. He could feel fear bleeding into the apathy, swirling around like paint introduced to water. He was beginning to cry, unable to help the sudden swell of distress in his chest. He didn’t realize he talking until the blubbering reached his ears. “-orry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

He could smell roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not exactly time yet, but since there’s likely not be an update until after: Happy Halloween! Hope you all enjoy the rest of the spookiest time of the year. Also, thank you as always for your kudos and comments. They definitely make me feel they it’s worth writing and releasing each and every chapter. I’ll see you all next month for a new update!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Dry heaving and a panic attack in the hospital scene.

He could smell roses.

“...just leave me alone...” Donald whimpered under his breath. He had his eyes screwed shut, wanting to scream at the top of his lungs. He resisted it though, knowing blind rage would so nothing to make Harpocrates stop bothering him during a moment of weakness. He couldn’t handle having a conversation with the God after using all of mental strength to tell his uncle one of oldest secrets.

“Lad, would you look at me?” The billionaire’s voice was surprisingly soft for someone that was supposed to be furious at him for hiding his identity for so long. He found silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he fluttered he eyes open, looking back up. Scrooge was staring at him with such genuine, open concern, that he gasped when he realized he wasn’t going to be treated with anger.

“Y-You’re not mad...?”

“Mad? No, lad, I’m actually furious that you never told me! But, I think I’m more concerned about your reaction in the past two minutes,” Donald’s hands were trembling still. Two minutes? It had felt like a lifetime. He was furious though. “Are you alright?”

Donald stared down at his lap. “...I-I’ve never actually told anyone.” 

Scrooge removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “...not even Della?”

“...no...I-I think Duckworth knew?” He felt sick to his stomach even talking about this subject.

“Of course he did, you can’t get anything past him. I’ve thought at times that he can actually read minds,” Scrooge sighed with a shake of his head. He stared at Donald for a long moment with a frown. “You’re looking a bit peaky still. Are you going to boak?”

“...I don’t know,” He honestly answered, staring blankly over Scrooge’s shoulder. “I want to go home. I need to. I need the amulet. I need it...”

“I think we actually need to talk first about what you revealed to me. You don’t think that warrants a conversation?”

“...I think I’m gonna...” He leaned forward, head directly next to his leg. He breathed deeply, holding it in for a few seconds, before releasing it. A moment later he gagged, hand scrambling in the air for his uncle to hand him a trash bin. A second later his wish was granted. He wrapped his hands around it, thrust his bill inside, and dry heaved several times over it.

A hand was rubbing up and down his back now. “Lad, I think you’re in shock. You said you’ve never told anyone? Is that because you decided not to or...that you couldn’t?”

He lifted his head weakly. “Second one...I...I think I’m...”

Donald was dry heaving once more, heart racing a mile a minute. He couldn’t even continue this conversation, without being physically sick. He has kept it pent up inside so long, that his emotional state was making his body rebel. He needed help, he needed it badly. He reached out to grasp hold of his uncle’s shoulder. He lifted his head, voice raspy. “...call...therapist...”

Scrooge was already fumbling with his phone, scrolling through his contacts before dialing. Donald noticed the tremble in his uncle’s hand with surprise, never have seen that happen before. Of course, he had never revealed his secret about being the Duck Avenger before until then either. The thought made him go off into another round of dry heaving, thankful it never went far enough to actually throw up. This was honestly a mess and he knew he was in no shape to go back to the mansion for the amulet. He would rather go his friends’ aid with a clear mind.

He looked up from the bin and completely froze. The shadowy form of the God was standing very openly in the doorway, where if his uncle only turned his head a fraction of an inch he would see him. Did he want this? Donald thought he was meant to be a secret, but this was showing otherwise...or it could be a sign that he done wrong. Maybe this edged too far into their contract. Wait, why was the door open in the first place? And, where had the boys gone? “U-Uncle Scrooge?”

“I’m calling, I promise, it’s just going to voicemail though, so I don’t think I can’t get the-“

“J-Just-the door-l-look-“ 

The next moment Donald blinked the door was closed once more. And, of course Scrooge looked over to see nothing out of place. He raised an eyebrow at his nephew in confusion. “Yes?”

What was the God playing at? He didn’t understand why he would show himself, only to disappear only seconds later. He felt a cold sweat blooming on his brow at another thought. Maybe he was never there. Maybe Donald was having a psychological breakdown after telling his uncle about the Duck Avenger. He pushed away that thought, attempting to remain calm. “It’s nothing...I think I’m fine now.”

“Alright enough to talk about that secret of yours?” Just the phrase alone set off another round of gagging, shoulders throbbing from the exertion it was putting him through. His uncle winced at that. “I’ll take that as a no then.”

Donald couldn’t even say the words to either of his therapists in the past, so he didn’t think he could say much else to his uncle on the topic. He was also limited in what he could physically say, as some of what he faced was in his contract with Harpocrates was off limits. There was never any explicit rule against revealing his identity as the Duck Avenger though, so he really doubted his fear that he had accidentally broken a rule. He couldn’t even mention the God himself fo anyone, as they would have to figure it out for themselves! He hoped that the mention alone from Hera would be enough for his uncle to find out more, because otherwise he would never be able to explain that factor of his life.

Scrooge’s next words startled him from his thoughts. “Do you want me to bring the boys in? Would that help, Donald?” 

“No! No, don’t!” He didn’t want to boys to see him panicking, especially after they literally cried over him having his visions causing a visit to the hospital.

Scrooge looked alarmed at the reaction. “Er, I won’t for now, Donald. But I cannot leave them out there forever you know.”

He breathed deeply, slowly, trying to make his heart rate slow. He briefly thought about trying to contact Jones, someone he trusted fairly well for his issues, but he felt as though the other therapist was better equipped for this level of panic. He lifted his head, wiping some drool from his bill. “I’m...fine, just don’t...don’t ask about that right now. Please, I can’t answer. I really can’t. I know I’ve said that a lot, but I really can’t.”

“Alright, I won’t for now. But, I will have to eventually. You cannot just tell me that you were the vigilante that I-I-“

“-would call me ‘a dodgy prat’ or ‘a corrupt villain’ or-“ He croaked, suddenly wishing he hadn’t even spoke as he moaned.

Scrooge frowned. “Lad, I wouldn’t have ever called you any of that if I knew-“

“You’re apologizing for those ones but not the other things you’ve said? I’ve heard you say much worse about me and-“

“Donald, hold on! I thought we weren’t going to talk about-“ Scrooge froze and stared at him with wide eyes. “...Wait...Donald...how...how old were you when first you started? Don’t tell you were only...”

The sailor clenched the wastebasket in a grip that left him white knuckled, unable even answering the quiet voice. He wouldn’t even be able to get the words out. The words that he was only 15-years-old the first time he placed himself in danger. The only thing that came out was a weak sound of affirmation. Scrooge squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. There was a long moment of silence as Donald collected himself, feeling safe enough to lift his head up once more. His uncle opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m...sorry, Donald. It seems as though I truly did fail you growing up, didn’t I?”

He gulped thickly and thought back on all the wrong his uncle had done while raising him, on how damaged he was to this day about it. He constantly put Donald in danger, nearly killing him on various occasions. The constant fighting they went through when Donald couldn’t get through to his uncle. The favoritism towards Della Scrooge had always shown. Never providing the help necessary to control his constant anger that caused rampages that damaged everything around him. His uncle was right; in a way he had failed Donald. 

He also thought about all the good as well though. The spirit of adventure taught Donald to be bold, courageous, to think through puzzles to solve a mystery. That led directly into how he acted as the Duck Avenger. His uncle taught him how to fiscally responsible, which was how Donald was even able to survive raising his nephews on such minimal pay. Scrooge taught Donald that love was worth the sacrifice you had to make for those you cared about. The billionaire didn’t have to accept bringing Donald and Della into his home, but even though he was still cold hearted, he knew that they had no where else to go. And, his uncle had come a long way since then. He recalled how stony he was when the twins first arrived at the mansion. How he stowed himself away in his office constantly, leaving them to their own devices. They slowly chipped away at his heart though and Donald finally realized what type of person the great Scrooge McDuck was.

“You did mess up a lot and you hurt me over and over again. I almost died every single time we went on an adventure and I was too afraid to be myself around you for a very long time,” He couldn’t even tell Scrooge he was bisexual for such a long time, terrified he would turn out to be every bit of the pretentious, bigot the world made him out to be. “...but, you also loved me, and protected every single time I was in danger.”

Scrooge stared at him in surprise. “I’m not so certain love out weighs the failure of being so unobservant to your suffering though!“

Donald had never seen Scrooge McDuck be so hard on himself in his life. It was so out of the realm of normal that he couldn’t even think of a proper response. He sat there dumbly, surprised when Scrooge continued on with self loathing evident in his tone. “I neglected to love you the proper way and you’re still suffering to this day over it! And I gave Della too much attention, inflated her ego I did! And now she’s making the same exact mistakes I am!”

Donald was taken back by the words, surprised he had regrets about how Della was raised as well. “Uh, Uncle Scrooge-“ “She would be so disappointed that I couldn’t even raise the two of you properly and that you are suffering over the pain I caused you!”

“Wha-who are you talking about?” 

“Hortense!” He spat in return, eyes dark. Scrooge McDuck never spoke about his younger sister. Ever. And anyone that would be bring up the topic would receive a glare and a shuttered expression at the mention. Having his uncle willingly talk about his mother was a rare event in itself and Donald was froze with anticipation. He should feel terrible right now, horrified by Scrooge feeling the way he did. But, he wanted to hear more. He wanted to learn more about the type of person she was.He held his breath, daring not to make a sound, if I meant he could hear more. “If she hadn’t died, you and Della wouldn’t ever had to suffer at my hands! She would have done so much better! She would have loved you how I’ve never been able to! She would hate me for what I’ve done!”

He didn’t care about hearing more all of sudden. His heart hurt. His uncle actually thought he hadn’t loved them enough, hadn’t even been capable of giving love. He remembered the lonely, reclusive man he knew as a child, remembered how he grown out of that shell. He thought about how Scrooge went back to being cold when Della was gone, how Donald had become so angry. He thought about the warmth returning when the boys came into his life, how Scrooge went back to being the affectionate duck Donald remembered seeing when he was a young child. It took him almost thirty five years of knowing him to fully understand and know exactly in that moment what was wrong with his uncle. Without a doubt, Scrooge McDuck cared too much.

Donald leaned forward and wrapped his wings around the older duck, squeezing him tightly. Tears were welling in the sailor’s eyes, his frame shaking as he whispering into his uncle’s ear. “She wouldn’t hate you, Uncle Scrooge. You took us in and you loved us and I think that would have been enough for her.”

The billionaire was stiff as a board, wings refusing to return the gesture. His uncle’s voice came out low, exhausted, drained. “...it hasn’t been enough though...I’m just continuing to make mistake after mistake...”

“Yeah, well, maybe making mistakes runs in the family, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald thought of all of the mistakes everyone in the family had made, how everyone has had to learn, how everyone was learning. “Maybe mistakes is what makes us McDucks. In case you haven’t noticed though, we all learn from our mistakes. If you didn’t...you...wouldn’t be trying so hard to fix what you did to me. Trying so hard to love me like you always do.”

The wings were slowly, gently wrapping around him in response. The stiffness was melting away. He felt Scrooge’s forehead leaning against his shoulder. There was such a long bout of silence, that Donald began to grow worried. Had he said the wrong thing? He felt alarmed when his shirt began to grow wet, knowing his uncle was crying on him for the first time in his life. “U-Uncle Scrooge?”

The older duck looked up, tears in his eyes. “I-I love you so much, Donald, and I never want to be the cause of your suffering ever again.”

It sounded like a promise and if anyone in his family knew anything about Scrooge McDuck, he always kept them.

*

“This is taking longer than I thought,” Della sighed to herself, still hammering away at a corner of the cell with the foot of her prosthetic. Of course, it was predictable that the broken piece could only do so much against the ground. While she chipped the concrete over the course of the past hour, she was beginning to feel as though she made little progress. “Why the hell am I even trying this again?”

Della glanced to her unconscious companion lying by the bars of the cell beside her. She was doing this for Jose of course, but also to rescue Storkules it seemed. The duck had long since given up on the demigod appearing anytime soon. She at least hoped he fared better than they did. It was likely in her opinion, considering his immortal status, and incredible strength. She threw down her foot with a growl at the thought. “God, why can’t you just break us out of here, dude? If I literally had the strength of a bulldozer and I would break this wall in five seconds flat!”

“...who are you...talking about...?” The weak croak had her craning her head to the side, revealing Jose to have awoken. 

“Oh, just Storkules, the literal God of strength!” She fumed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Ah,” He hummed, seeming to recall the recap she had given him previously. He reached a hand up, pushing feathers out of his face. “I do not believe he is coming.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that out awhile ago,” She absentmindedly replied as she stared at him lying limply on the ground. She was trying to play off how anxious his state had her earlier, but she couldn’t help voicing her concern. “How are you feeling? You scared the crap out of me, thinking you were bleeding to death. I almost went berserk on that stupid Rottweiler after he dragged you in, you know.”

“It would have not surprised me, though I am relieved you restrained yourself,” He answered, rolling over onto his side slowly. “I am alive as you can see. Our captors wouldn’t simply decide to...to end me so suddenly. They found it fit to punish me however for being so-“

He waved a hand the air, obviously struggling to find the correct word. “I honestly can’t even think of a reason why they would beat the hell out of you, other than being a bunch of evil bastards.”

“While I do have to agree with the sentiment, the exact word I was looking for isn’t translating to English in my mind.”

“What’s the definition?” She wasn’t used to running into this problem with Jose, as typically Panchito had been the one in the past to ask her or Donald what a word in English had been.

“Ah, how you say...” He continued to wave his hand. “Showing a lack of...praise for their existence.”

She frowned. “You mean tolerance?” 

“Nao, more like, a type of admiration.” 

“Uhhh, respect?”

He snapped his fingers, pointing at her. “Sim, sim...respect...for their being...for their cause...for...”

Della felt alarmed as he begun to tremble violently, curling into himself. She crawled closer to him, hand hovering over his shoulder. “Hey, you’re ok, I’m not going to let anyone else beat you like that again, Jose.”

“You cannot promise that,” Though he didn’t cease trembling, his voice held steady. “You are not in a position to promise that when you currently their captive as well.”

“Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed everyone in the McDuck family has been captives to an evil baddie at some point or another, and we always were able to get ourselves outta it. When have I lied to you, dude? You know I always try to pull through on a promise.” The duck placed her hand down onto him, allowing her fingers to press down through the feathers to press flush against him.

His hand shot up at the touch, grasping a firm hold to her wrist. She didn’t flinch away, but grimaced at the tight hold. He made eye contact with her, tears leaking out with a flat voice. “I know you try to, Della, but minha amiga, who will protect you from me?”

The words seemed to echo in the enclosed space and she went stiff in the grip. There was a glowing mass of glittering black encircling the grip, a chill rolling down her spine. This was wrong, her senses told her, feathers on the back of the neck standing up. She attempted to pull away with a gasp of surprise. 

He didn’t answer, only leered at her with a dark, predatory look. She had never seen that expression from him before and she quickly realized that she was in deep trouble. She pulled away hard enough, finally, that the contact between the pair was broken. She scampered back until her body hit the metal bars behind her. Jose had stood as though he hadn’t been injured in the first place. The blood, vanished as though an eraser had throughly cleaned him of any trace. His grimy feathers seemed to drain back into his body, returning to that familiar trim across his body. The black mass engulfed his form, remolding his previously bright suit to dark. “Oh, Phooey.”

That was all she was able to say, before a hand was wrapped around the collar of her bomber jacket, and she was lifted into the air. He leaned in close to her face, smiling with vigor. “Now, what shall I do with you, Della Duck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up for everyone, I start school at the end of the month, so updates will likely begin to happen less frequently. I have no intentions of abandoning the story however, so worry not. Once again, thank you for kudos and comments. Next update is sooner than you think!
> 
> Portuguese translations:
> 
> Nao  
No
> 
> Sim  
Yes
> 
> Minha amiga  
My friend


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some of the visions have graphic descriptions. Also, as I have had Donald mention before, The Three Cabs were dating in this story in the past and this will be a primarily Panchito and Jose centric chapter that contains them as a pair. There is a lot of Spanish and Portuguese in this chapter, and translations have been left in the author’s note at the end.

“P-Por favor! P-Perhaps we may speak about this! Let us not do anything too rash when tensions are hi-“ Jose was presenting a weak smile, his charisma frail in the face of danger. He didn’t expect to be backhanded suddenly, hard enough that he fell back onto his rear end.

“Shut the hell up!” The rooster snarled back in response. He towered menacingly over the quaking parrot, blocking the drizzling rain from the turbulent storm above. His chest heaved furiously, obviously upset about Jose escaping his bounds, and managing to remove the sack over his head only a minute ago.

He raised a hand up to his own cheek in shock, before his eyes scanned the background rapidly. He needed to take inventory of much of his surroundings as possible, knowing the information could be valueable later on. It was overcast, a mild chill in the air that hinted that autumn was approaching. Jose appeared to be in a lush, dense forest, a layer of mist settled into the mountains behind the rooster, and a burly pair of security dogs. The setting didn’t narrow it down much, however- 

“Get the sack back over his head and those damn cuffs back on!” The steelbeak of the rooster grinded together with a screech of metal, the sound grating on the ears.

Before Jose could think of how to escape, the security dogs were looming over him. He flinched, raising his hands weakly. He wanted to plead, knowing that they planned on hurting him in an effort to follow their commands. Judging from the earlier actions, they very much enjoyed their occupation, if it meant they could release their rage on their victims at any given moment. The golden retriever hastily threw the bag lopsidedly back onto his head and grasped a firm hold of his wing. “P-Please, gentlemen, be-“

The parrot wasn’t certain who did it, but he was flipped over onto his stomach, his face being pushed hard enough into the dirt below that it ground into the feathers of his face. Though his body wanted to do the opposite, he went limp as his hands were yanked behind his back, hoping they weren’t going to break his wings in the process. Jose couldn’t even imagine the amount of pain he would be in and the lack of sympathy they would show if that did happen. The bounds were wrapped around tighter than before, digging into the flesh underneath ruffled feathers. The parrot lifted his head when the pressure eased. He was pulled to stand and he stumbled over his own feet. “Now, if you pull that Houndi bullshit again, I’m going to clobber you myself, buddy! You capeesh?”

“Y-Yes, of course, I will be on my best behavior, senhor!” Though his voice no longer shook, there was an obvious hi-pitch whine from his nerves being shot. He could taste the fresh soil on his tongue, having gotten quite a mouthful from earlier on. After what seemed to be at least an hour to his aching feet, he couldn’t help but ask. “If...if I may ask, how much longer will be walking?”

“None of your damn business!” The golden retriever growled, smacking him across the back of the head.

“AI!” Jose yelped in pain, though it quickly subsided. He wasn’t certain if lady luck was on his side or not, but the action had jostled the bag on his head, revealing a hole in the fabric. He blinked a few times, before he realized he could actually see through it as a result. He tried not to react in any way to this knowledge, allowing to be led for several more minutes through a forest. This was the perfect time to uncover his location, perhaps finding landmarks that he could use during his escape.

They stopped in a clearing and out of his field of vision he saw the imposing figure of the rooster disappear. There was long string of curses from him, then a series of strange noises, before the ground shook for a few moments. He couldn’t help the gasp. What in the world was that? He was shoved to the right, nearly tripping over himself, until a firm hand rightened him. Through the hole, Jose was presented with a gaping dark pit, leading far down below into the ground. He opened his mouth, feeling a cold sweat on the back of neck. This didn’t look-

Panchito scrutinized at the familiar grassy clearing with a frown. He crouched down to his hands and knees, patting at the ground. He could feel the moist dew from the early morning hours and could smell the fresh scent of pine lingering in the air. There was a snort from behind, his feathers ruffling from the bear huffing a warm breath onto him. “I really did not expect that to work either, but maybe we can try again, señor oso?”

He went back to inspecting the grass patch. He knew that Jose had gone down here, though he hadn’t had idea where that was, or how to even enter it. The vision from his friend had only shown what the parrot had seen, nothing more, nothing less. There was a loud noise from below his feet and the ground shuddered violently. He tumbled forward, noticing the crust of Earth was beginning to move, and he scrambled out of the way when the pit began to reveal itself. The bear grunted from a distance away, standing on it’s hind legs. Panchito looked up in astonishment at the noise. “How did you-oh, that is not important now; I need to worry about Jose. Gracias for your help, mi amigo!”

The bear dropped back down onto all fours. He raised his head into the air, sniffed, and began to head back into the direction the pair previously came from. Apparently it was time for their parting, as the bear seemed to sense that the time to hibernate was fast approaching. The rooster raised a hand into the air at him, hopping up and down as he shouted his goodbyes. When the bear was out of sight, Panchito peered down into what appeared to be pitch dark blackness. If he didn’t know what it truly was from the disoriented visions Jose had unwittingly given, he would have simply believed it be a deep hole that likely led into a cavern. He knew better though, aware that whoever had taken his friend, were very secretive people. Apparently to the point of hiding out far north and having an underground lair.

He saw the glint of the metal ladder near his feet and he nodded to himself. There was no telling how far it went down or to where he would end up, but none of those worries were important right now. Saving Jose Carioca was and he would stop at nothing to do so. So, he swung a foot down, connecting with the top rung, and began his descent into unknown danger.

Down he went, into the darkness, unable to see anything expect for the sunlight far above. It became harder to see the rungs, the further he went, until he realized it was becoming brighter down below. He came to the end of the ladder, staring down to reveal a brightly lit tunnel beneath him. He paused for a moment, listening for anyone nearby. It would not do to be captured so early on. After hearing not a single sound, he dropped down, landing in a tumble in the hard floor. He stood up, brushing off his clothes, and looking around to reveal to different directions the tunnel could take him. “You could not make it any easier to find you, could you, Jose?”

Panchito wandered the hallways for the better part of an half an hour. Minutes of convincing himself that he was not lost, ended up becoming resigned to the fact he truly was. Every corner he turned looked exactly the same and the jumbled up visions that meshed into his mind didn’t help. Now more than ever he wished the visions the Three Caballeros had would make any sense, though they seemed to make things all the more confusing instead. And, to make matters worse, the others never knew when one of the other two had received any, unless they directly told one another. If the rooster were to be honest, he found it to be annoying as hell. They were helpful in cases such as this however.

The rooster paused in his walking, deciding to take a break in order to focus on what was the direct next vision he received from Jose after the parrot was dragged through the entrance of the tunnels. He closed his eyes, focusing on all of the ones he had from the last year. The very next one was-

His arms were bound above his head, feet dangling a few inches above the floor. Blood kept dripping into his vision, stinging his eyes painfully. The rest of it was seeping into his suit jacket, before leaking down his pant leg, making his body feel disgustingly sticky. His shoulder blades burned from holding up his weight for what was surely hours by this point. His stomach pained him from hunger and he-

Panchito’s hands were on his knees and he was trembling at the memory of the vision he had brought back up. It made him sick to his stomach recalling any memories he had of Jose being...being tortured. He couldn’t define it as anything else and the worst part was never being able to stop the pain the parrot would suffer. Panchito was never able to decipher why these monsters were doing this in the first place. He wiped away the tears swimming in his eyes. He couldn’t lose himself in it, if he did he wouldn’t be able to function for a solid day. This was the worse place for that to happen as well. He reigned his control back in and stood back to his full height. He couldn’t allow Jose see him fall apart before they had even properly reunited. He knew Jose hated to see him cry.

*

“Guauu! Mira, mira, Jose, do you see that?!” Panchito exclaimed, pointing excitedly out the plane window.

Jose leaned in close, the smell of his cologne heavy in the rooster’s nostrils. The parrot nodded at the magnificent waterfall far down below into the rainforest. He presented a beaming smile back at him. “Que vista! O Brasil é realmente incrível!”

Panchito wasn’t looking at the landscape any longer, dazed expression taking place once he realized the scent from Jose was the same brand of cologne from their college days. It brought back memories of their time spent together, with Donald, with Xandra, fighting against the forces of evil. It reminded him of those late nights the three of them sat underneath the moonlight, drinking, listening to each other sing, and play instruments. It reminded him of stolen kisses in the dark, the three of them huddled together close. He smiled back at his friend, feeling foolish that they had spent as long as they had without a reunion. He couldn’t help the words that blurted out. “Sí, la vista es hermoso!”

Jose’s eyes widened, smile replaced by an expression of disbelief. His cheeks turned bright red, beak gaping open, appearing flustered suddenly. Panchito blushed, feeling unusually flustered as he fully realized he hadn’t said anything like that to Jose since they had broken up. There was a painfully awkward, long bout of silence, as they stared at one another. He couldn’t simply say that to him anymore, they hadn’t dated in years! “QUIERO DECIR...Quiero decir que Brasil es hermoso!”

Jose turned back to the window, hand covering his beak. He mumbled, voice uncharacteristically shy. “That it is, meu querido.”

Panchito stared at his friend’s back, the engine in the plane’s left wing rumbling in the next bout of unnatural silence. Someone in a few rows back coughed, a baby cooed a few rows up, the door to the bathroom at the end of the walkway snapped shut. The rooster couldn’t even respond, haven’t not heard Jose call him that since the last time all three of them had gone on a date. It had been years and it still left him completely melted hearing the words. They were no longer dating though, strangers trying to rebuild their knowledge of one another. Why did Jose call him that now? And why did it still feel so right? “What...what are you doing, Jose?”

The parrot didn’t move, didn’t respond. The rooster reached out to grasp hold of his shoulder and watched the shudder Jose released. His friend finally turned back to him, hand still covering his beak, eyes averted. “I had...I had a wonderful time with you and Donald today...though I had not expected to encounter a man eating plant that only bloomed to feast upon visitors during our reunion. However, knowing how our lives are, I should have certainly predicted it.”

Panchito felt his worry lessen, the need to tease at the forefront of his mind. “I thought by now you would have learned your lesson, mi amigo! I had a great time as well. I’ve missed you and Donald a great amount. We should have reunited with one another much sooner.”

Jose pulled his hand away, frowning. “We should have, yet we never did.”

“Jose, what is this about?” Panchito was beginning to feel the worry return, feeling as though his friend was being very strange. 

“Our...relationship did not end well, I must admit,” Jose confessed, eyebrows furrowed. He placed a gloved hand over Panchito’s own. A thumb rubbed circles on the top of his hand. “In fact, how the three of us ended was a disaster. As I heard Dewey say earlier today, it was a ‘dumpster fire’.”

Panchito couldn’t help the snort of laughter that bubbled in his throat. Jose raised an eyebrow at him. The rooster raised his free hand to his beak sheepishly, knowing the topic was series. “Lo siento, but hearing you quoting the slang children use now is hysterical.”

Jose sighed fondly. “Sim, sim, let us make fun of the velhote.”

“Oye, al menos podemos ser viejos juntos!”

The parrot went rigid, the rooster expecting him to pull away. He squeezed his hand tight though, cheeks reddening once more. He looked Panchito in the eyes, more affection in them than anyone had given him in a long time. He brought the hand up to his beak, pressing a tender kiss to it for the first time in nine years. Jose looked up, face softened, relaxed. “Do you truly mean that, meu querido?”

“Por supuesto que sí!” He pulled his hand away, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You are one of my best friends! We are the Three Caballeros, birds of a feather! Though I suppose in this case, the Two Caballeros.”

Jose appeared pained by the words, pulling away finally. “Panchito, I cannot go on as this. The past nine years, it has truly been difficult for me, thinking about how we had been. I do not...I wish...I truly do wish the three of us had never broken up.”

“But...” Panchito couldn’t understand, couldn’t understand why this was being said now, instead of almost a decade ago. “You said you were fine with it, you wanted it, you didn’t want to be chained down any longer. You said as much after our fight with Donald about Della...her p-passing...And we both decided we cannot continue on without him! You said you wanted to see different animals!”

“Perhaps I lied, because I couldn’t bear the idea of Donald no longer being in our lives,” Jose confessed, staring down at his lap. “I thought...I believed our whole dynamic would change and that you would want to leave as well. It was better to cut my losses then, instead of down the line.”

The rooster inhaled a sharp breath, completely unaware that the parrot had been feeling this way after all these years. “And you did not at least tell me this? When I still had you, you did not tell me how afraid you were?”

“Why would I? We did not have Donald and we both know he meant everything to us. And now, his life is perfect, and he is too focused on the boys to pursue a relationship. Donald has moved on, just as you have. I cannot hold this in any longer though. It’s been ten years and I still feel so much for you two. I still...ainda te amo, Panchito.”

The rooster stared at him with wide eyes. He still loved him, after all those years, after the three of them had gone their separate ways. And Panchito...he hadn’t wanted to say anything about the subject, but there hadn’t ever been anyone else in his life. In fact, he hadn’t even gone out his way to find anyone else, because if it wasn’t Donald and Jose, it couldn’t be anyone else. The parrot’s eyes were watering up, fumbling with the seatbelt, before standing to his feet. “I am going to the restroom, if you’ll excuse me.”

He was running, he thought he was being rejected. He didn’t realize that Panchito...after all those years he felt the same way. The rooster slowly reached a hand up, firm on Jose’s wing. The parrot looked down at him, face a grimace of torment. Panchito, whose voice was so characteristically loud, spoke delicately to him in this moment. “...y estaré enamorado de ti por siempre, Jose.”

Jose stared down at him, before laughing wetly. “Eu fui um idiota, não fui?”

Panchito laughed back. “Just a little, mi amor.”

*

Panchito didn’t move a muscle, feeling the feathers on the back of his neck stand up, once he realized he was being followed. He would have thought it was simply one of the villians that ran this prison, if it wasn’t for the sinking feeling in his stomach. He felt as thought something unnatural had touched his soul, something he as a mortal shouldn’t be near. He clapped a hand over the back of his neck in an attempt to reduce the discomfort. The rooster couldn’t allow his anxiety hinder his goal however. For Jose, always for Jose. He gulped and took a few tentative steps forward. When nothing happened, no one appearing, he continued forward. He peaked his head around the corner of the hallway, hoping no one was standing guard- 

The sun was boiling hot, making the sand beneath him unbearable. He could feel the burning through his thick layer of feathers and he couldn’t even move an inch in response. He attempted to arch his back off of the sand at the very least, only to find himself gasping from the intense pain he felt from his leg. No, his leg was gone. He had cut...he had cut it off just to get out from underneath the rocket. What he felt, was the stinging nerves, aggravated by the gritty, hot sand. He wanted to throw up and scream at the same time. It was hot, oh so hot.

Donald wanted to die. He had never been as in much pain as he was then. Was this how Della felt, trapped alone on the moon, as she cut off her own leg? At least she had her knife then. A clearer cut. He had to struggle with the jagged broken remains of a sea shell. It was barely sharp enough, having been such a struggle to cut through his skin. The amount of time it has taken had been excruciating to the nerves. He wish he at least knew that he had to do more than cut into himself. The fact he had to break his own bon-

Panchito was squatting on the ground, trembling hands covering his face. His eyes were squeezing shut, palms rubbing against his closed eyelids. He saw an array of rainbow rings, almost a halo effect, in the darkness. He pulled his hands away, opening his eyes, watching the rainbow rings fade away. He choked on his breath, realizing he had stopped doing so altogether. Donald, he was Donald. No, he had a vision about Donald. He hadn’t had a vision about the duck in a year now. In fact, he hadn’t begun to since he started wearing his amulet, again. He had hidden it away, terrified after the last vision he had about the three of them years ago. One of his other friends was in danger now it seemed, which was just his luck. He needed to rescue Donald from whatever had grasped hold of him.

Where was he? Panchito realized he wasn’t in the hallway any longer, instead finding himself crouched near a closed steel door. He swiveled his head to the side, revealing rows and rows of empty prison cells. It was freezing in here, much different than the hot sand burning his backside on the beach. No, that was Donald. That was not him. He hadn’t expected the vision so suddenly, having been pulled too far into it. He wanted to chuck the amulet sitting in his pocket and never look at it again. He needed it though, to find Jose, to find Donald. How had he gotten to this room though? He had never found himself forgetting his actions during a vision. That never happened to any of them. So, how had he wandered back here? 

Panchito distantly heard talking, low tones that sounded familiar. He stood to his full height, ignoring the tremble in his legs, a reaction to the dark vision from only a minute ago. Focus on finding Jose first, he was closer than Donald. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he could have sworn it sounded exactly like Jose that had been speaking. He continued down the hallway of cells, seeing not a single soul as he went. The further he went, the louder the voices were. That definitely sounded like...he grinned, turning his careful walk into a full sprint. It was Jose, it was Jose, it was Jose-

He stopped in front of the cell, frozen at the sight. He couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at, but it filled his stomach with a mix of led, and hope. His closest friend, holding Della Duck up by the collar, her back pressed firmly against the stone wall. She was...she was dead, she had to be dead, she had been gone so long, how was she alive? He couldn’t even speak, shocked into silence to discover she was very much alive. Did Donald know? They thought she died in a rocket accident. He had, he had mourned her years ago, just as everyone else had, but she was alive! But, this was wrong, everything about scene was oh, so wrong.

Black magica was swirling in the air, translucent like a fine mist. The look in his eyes ferocious, darker than Panchito could ever recall seeing. The change in his mood had turned so drastically that he was feeling backlash. The feathers on his neck were standing up again, hand clapping over it with a resounding slap. The noise made Della’s head snap to the left, staring directly at him with wide eyes. Jose slowly turned his head, tilting it to the side. His expression was annoyed now, as though if he were deciding if Panchito was worth his time. 

“Panchito,” His voice was low, hoarse, as though he had overused it. He released his hold on Della, allowing her to drop to the floor. Jose approached the bars of the cell in a waltz, hands wrapping firmly around two of them. The staring made the rooster extremely uncomfortable, even more so when the eyes flicked up and down his body. “Come here, meu querido.”

“PANCHITO, DON’T!” Della screamed desperately from where she laid out on the floor, eyes wide. Jose whipped around to her, swiping a hand in her direction. The black magica that had been floating in a haze, suddenly had gone solid, sharp, intent to injure. Della raised her hands to protectively shield her face, eyes squeezed shut. 

“ALTO!” The rooster yelped in a panic, the idea of Della bleeding out on the cold concrete intrusively entering his mind. The solid sharpness returned back to translucent, misting across her face like a haze of light rain. She was panting wildly, blinking slowly at what had happened, before lowering her hands when she realized there wasn’t immediate danger any longer. The rooster stared at his friend in shock, unable to even ask if she was alright. Jose looked bored, arms crossed over his chest as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “W-Why are you doing this? What is happening? I don’t understand!”

The parrot turned back to Panchito, beak sticking out in between the metal bars. He reached a black gloved hand out, as though offering it. His eyes glanced to Della and she shook her head fervently at him. He ignored it, stepping closer, close enough that his own beak was only a few inches away now. Jose glanced down, staring at the rooster’s beak. There was a long pause, Panchito feeling his breath quicken when Jose leaned in closer. Was he going to kiss him? The pair made eye contact and Panchito’s heart leaped wildly in his chest. This was wrong, this wasn’t his friend. He attempted to step back, only to feel Jose’s hand wrap around his throat in a firm hold. “Open the door.”

“I-I don’t-“ His Adam’s apple bobbed against the secure grip. It wasn’t tight enough to choke, but it was definitely enough to feel his breath grow shallow. “I-I don’t know the password.”

Jose glanced down at the blinking keypad, the one directly out of reach of his own hands. “Zero, eight, one, seven.”

Panchito reached a hand down, typing in the four numbers slowly. There was a clicking noise from the bars, before the door unlocked. Jose released his grip from his throat, pushing open the door, and stepping out of the cell. Panchito only stared at him, unable to comprehend what was happening. Della was scrambling across the floor, practically throwing herself at the pair in her rush. “PANCHITO, HE’S-“

Jose slashed at the air with his hand, throwing the sharp solid spikes of black magica at Panchito, intent on...on killing him. One of his best friends was going to kill him. He wanted to drive those spikes straight through him, even after all they had been through together. Jose was actually doing this and the rooster was frozen solid. If it hadn’t been for Della tackling him onto the ground in that moment, he would have surely been dead. He watched the spikes impale the steel door down the hall from them with a dazed mind. 

“GET UP!” Della shouted at him, already pulling him to his feet. He couldn’t think, before more spikes were thrown his direction, Panchito finally reacting without her help, somersaulting off to the side. For a wild moment, he thought Della had been hit, but she was squatting near one of the cells a few feet from him, having thrown herself out the way as well. 

Jose narrowed his eyes, glowering at her. “You are making this quite difficult for me, Della.”

“I would hope staying alive would!” Della yelled back. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I’m not gonna just let you literally stab me in the back for no reason!” 

The parrot’s face twisted and he raised his hand into the air. The hovering mist of black magic gathered together into his hand, becoming a large mass of darkness. He reached a hand back, as through preparing to throw a baseball, and tossed it in her direction. Della scrambled off to the side, allowing the ball to collide the bars of the cell in a fiery explosion, that had previously been behind her. She stared at the burnt off ends of the metal bars, bill gaping open. Panchito knew she hadn’t likely had to fight off someone in the manner that she would have to fight off Jose before. He knew his friend’s style however, could predict his movements. He needed to help Della. He raised his hands, cupping them around his beak so Jose would hear him shout. “JOSE!”

The parrot’s attention was brought to him by the calling. He raised a smooth eyebrow, before a smirk grew on his face. He clasped his hands behind his back with a hum, beginning to waltz towards Panchito. “A distraction from my task is pointless, meu querido, and I will not allow you to prevent it.”

“Jose, please, I do not understand why you are doing this? Why are you attacking us?! And with your black magica! You hate using it! I’ve come all for his way to rescue you from u to our captives and now...now you’re trying to hurt us with what you said you would never use again. This isn’t you!”

Jose smiled cruelly. “Panchito, I have never felt more as myself as I do now. I will be using my black magica to achieve my task, to appease my trainers. After all, that is what my soul is tasked with!”

The rooster stared at him, unable to comprehend the words. Trainers? Tasked? His soul? What about his soul? Nothing was making any sense! He was startled when Della shouted from a distance away. She was standing by the metal door that Panchito couldn’t recall entering through earlier, hands on her hips. “HEY, CARIOCA!”

The parrot turned halfway to her, a impassive expression taking place. “There is no need to shout, Della.”

She glared at him. “You know...it’s funny, how you played me, making me you were actually a good person. I should have figured after all those years pretending to be something you’re not was finally too much. You just have too much darkness in your blood, so much of it from your family, that you had to cave, and become exactly like them, didn’t you?”

Panchito was shocked Della had touched on the topic of the Caricoas. They knew never to do that, knowing how afraid he was to succumb to the black magica that they all partook in. Jose smile grew wider in response, a strain on his face. “You may want to watch what you say, or I might have to permanently shut your mouth.”

“Fighting your nature, it becomes too much, doesn’t it? Dirty blood, means dirty offspring. Makes all of you evil, incl ring you,” She continued on, ignoring the fake smiles dropping from her friend’s face. Panchito knew it was supposed to be a distraction, to get him out of direct danger, but the cold words had him frozen. “And, what’s all you’ll ever be! Dirty, evil, everything your family said about you is true. Because, who knows family better than your own?”

Jose was infuriated, more than Panchito had ever seen in his life. It was obvious whatever nerve Della had prodded had done a number. The rooster could seen it written on his face, knew that being pressed pass a limit would cause rash decisions. He knew Jose was going to leap at her, throw all of the power of his black magica at her, intending to kill. Without any hesitation, he body slammed into Jose from behind as hard as he could, the pair going down like a rock. The parrot’s face bashed into the concrete floor and Panchito laid on top of him, feeling his blood pumping. He was already standing before he could fully register his action, backing away with dawning horror as he realized this had definitely made it worse. This would only serve as a temporary distraction and he knew he needed to make a run for it immediately. He sprinted towards the exit the duck stood next to, waving his hands are her. “RUN!”

Della practically tore the door off the hinges, already sprinting through. He chanced a glance for his shoulder as he went after her, seeing black swirling magica in the air, Jose rising to his feet. Blood leaked from his beak, a hand raising to wipe at it. The parrot looked up with such murderous eyes that Panchito felt sick to his stomach knowing it was aimed at him. He slammed the door shut behind him, fastest he had ever gone to get away from anyone, including the love of his life.

*

The airport bustled with animals heading to the open gateways for their flights. The sounds of suitcases rolling across the title echoed around them, the voices of the crowd overlapping one another. The sound of a plane was heard taking off in the background, causing the crowd to increase their volume to be heard. By the exit of the recently landed plane, near the rows of empty chairs, stood a pair, a dapperly dressed green parrot, and rooster with a large brimmed hat. One of them released a loud choking noise, attempting to hold in their tears. “You are aware are parting is temporary, meu querido? There is no need to be crying.”

Jose was rubbing a soothing hand on his companion’s arm. Panchito sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “I am not crying...I am just allergic to your colonia.”

The parrot chuckled. “Of course, Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González never cries, does he?”

Panchito threw his arms around Jose’s shoulders, hugging him as tightly as he could. He received a groan in response, the parrot trapped in the vice like grip. “Es que no te he visto en tanto tiempo y ahora nos vamos de nuevo!”

“Meu querido, there is such a thing as video chatting, which we may do every day now if you so desire,” Jose informed him. “In fact, we can actually video chat Donald now as well. It would do us well to keep in contact with him.”

“It will not be the same!” He pulled away, snot running down his face. “I want to visit Donald more often and spend everyday with you!”

“Please, think about your family, Panchito; you know that you require your assistance running their fazenda. It would disrespectful to allow them to run it on their own in their elderly state.”

Panchito nodded. “Si, I know this, I only wish that I could...come to Mexico with me, please...my mama and papa adore you, and they would be happy to see you again after all these years.”

Jose caressed his cheek, the smooth silk of his glove soft against his red feathers. Though his tender smile remained, his eyes lost the light in them, showing the affliction inside. “Meu querido, you know I cannot. If I were to abandon my família, there would be severe consequences.”

Panchito wished he would have told Jose, told him that he was his family, that he always would be. He wished he convinced him to return to Mexico instead. And, above all else, he wished he showed him he cared about him more than anything else in the world. He didn’t say any of that though, instead he half heartedly answered. “I understand...just be safe and tell me when you have returned home. I will be mad with you otherwise!”

“Of course, meu querido. What kinda of amante would I be if I did not allow my boyfriend know I was home safe?” Jose chuckled, the light returning, as he pressed a soft kiss to Panchito’s cheek. The last kiss he would receive for a very long time from him.

Panchito wished he would have stopped him from leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, one year later, and if I’m going to be honest, much further than I originally intended for this story to go. I’m glad that it grew to have a life of it’s own, because I’ve had the joy of sharing my love for Ducktales with all of you. I honestly never expect my fan fictions to blow up the way they do, but I truly do appreciate all of the support the fandoms I’ve written for have given me. I hope you all continue to enjoy Castaway and I’ll see you all next update.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> P-Por favor: P-Please 
> 
> Senhor: Mister
> 
> Señor oso: Mister bear
> 
> Guauu! Mira, Mira: Wow! Look, look
> 
> Que vista! O Brasil é realmente incrível: What a view! Brazil is really amazing!
> 
> Sí, la vista es hermoso!: Yes, the view is beautiful!
> 
> QUIERO DECIR...Quiero decir que Brasil es hermoso!: I WANT TO SAY...I want to say that Brazil is beautiful!
> 
> Meu querido: My dear
> 
> Lo siento: I’m sorry
> 
> Sim, sim: Yes, yes
> 
> Velhote: Geezer
> 
> Oye, al menos podemos envejecer juntos!: Hey, at least we can grow old together!
> 
> Por supuesto que sí!: Of course, yes!
> 
> Ainda te amo: I still love you
> 
> y estaré enamorado de ti para siempre: and I'll be in love with you forever
> 
> Eu fui um idiota, não fui?: I was an idiot, wasn't I?
> 
> Mi armor: My love
> 
> ALTO: STOP
> 
> Es que no te he visto en tanto tiempo y ahora nos vamos de nuevo!: I haven't seen you in so long and now we're going again!
> 
> Fazenda: Farm
> 
> Amante: Lover


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: A small reference to suicide in the first scene. After effects of being drugged with Storkules. Brief choking warning with the scene Jose arrives in.

“I beseech thee, Mother! You will injure thyself if-“ Storkules begged, attempting to hold his mother’s flailing arms to your form with as little strength as possible. He knew he contained inhuman strength in comparison and had to be as delicate. He allowed the wildly swinging hands to smack him in the face and chest, flinching simply from the intensity of the action.

“RELEASE ME FROM MY BONDS! BE GONE! Y-YOU MONSTER! SAVE ME! RELEASE ME, YOU MONSTROUS-“ She was screaming at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face.

The young stork wrapped his thick arms around her tighter, hoping to prevent her wings from further injury in the meltdown she was experiencing. He spoke soothingly, though he doubted she could hear a single word over the wailing at the top of her lungs. “Shhhh...peace be with you...you are content, Mother...”

She ignored his comforts. After a few more minutes of her brutal behavior though, she went rigidly still, limp in his hold. Storkules slowly released his grip, though he caressed her wings with as he much reassurance he could muster. She twisted her body in his loose grip, head craning upwards with hazy eyes. A strand of sweaty hair fell into her eyes and she didn’t react in the least to it. Her voice was a whisper, hoarse from the several minutes of screaming. “...who are you? Where am I?”

She would ask this day after day and despite the exhaustion he felt repeating himself for years, he still responded patiently. “I am Storkules, birthed from you, Mother. We are in the Temple of the Moon on the island of Ithaquack.”

His mother didn’t respond, only stared straight forward at the opening of the temple, moonlight washing across the pair of them. “...who am I?”

“You are Alcmene, daughter of the great King Electryon, and the enthralling Anaxo.”

“Oh...Mother and Father, aye...I should be sought after by them...oh...who are you?”

The teenager could feel his heart pain as she repeated herself. “I am Storkules, birthed from-“

“ZEUS! YOU ARE YOU HIS SPAWN! YOU MONSTER, YOU ABSOLUTE SAVAGE! HE DID THIS! I AM CURSED TO SPAWN SUCH A-I HATE YOU! LET ME GO! YOU MONSTER!” She had suddenly gone back into a state of frenzy, and was pulling away with all of her might again, though he held fast.

Storkules’ eyes watered. “Mother, you know not what you say, I am your-“

She screamed directly into his face. “I SHOULD HAVE ENDED MY BLOOD WHEN I REALIZED HE HAD IMPREGNATED ME! I WOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN CURSED IF IT WAS NOT FOR YOUR EXISTENCE!”

There was a loud snap and all of the blood was gone from her face. She began to howl with agony, knowing nothing but pain. Storkules released her wrist as though he were burned. His eyes were wide and bill gaping open. He broke her bone, grip tightening during a brief moment of shock. He had never heard those words she spoke come from her tongue until then. Not even just broken it, but completely shattered. He felt all the shards underneath her skin, knowing that he had completely crushed every bone in that hand as well. He stared down at his hands, tears dropping onto his thick fingers, watching them begin to shake with a vengeance. He hurt his Mother, broken her physically this time instead of mentally. 

How he wished he had never existed.  
*

****

****

“STORKULES!” His eyes snapped opened at the frantic screaming in his face. Della Duck hovered over him, shaking his shoulders, before her head swiveling to the side with an expression of desperation. “WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW! GET UP! GET UP NOW!”

The bright light from behind her blinded him and he lifted a hand in slow motion to cover his eyes. He didn’t realize it until that moment, but his friend was in slow motion herself, and that the sound of her yelling was muted. The sound of a wailing siren in the background was a far off echo, making it feel as though he were trapped underwater. Storkules’ bill opened to reply and his tongue lolled out. He was thirsty, so thirsty. His head was pounding by this point and the light was steadily making it worse. Della wasn’t even looking at him anymore, staring at the doorway to the room. “PANCHITO!” 

He was confident the drugs in his system affected his vision, since it was impossible that a brightly colored rooster with a pistoles hand would come barreling into the room. There was the distant sound of banging and a piece of metal crunching, before the rooster slammed the steel door shut with a resounding clang. Storkules cried out at the noise, the pain in his head spiking to unbearable levels. Della turned around slowly, arriving by his side what seemed to be at least an hour later. “Storkules? What’s wrong? We need to go! Why are you covering your ears?”

Why was she suddenly speaking at the speed of light? He couldn’t even register her questions or even respond to any of them. His back arched off of the table below him, feeling worse at the sound of her voice. He blinked his eyes a few times, noting the light in the room seemed to darken slightly, no longer burning his retinas. Panchito voice was hi-pitched as he spoke with the vigor of a hyperactive child. “He looks a little pasty! I think he is about to-AYE!”

Storkules was throwing up over the edge of his bed with no control, allowing his churning stomach to release it’s contents. He laid back down onto the bed, shaking with the effort it had taken. He felt cold, far too cold for the fever he knew he was running from the amount of sweat sticking to him. Della was in his face again, staring into his eyes with a frown. “Are you...are you high? What the hell did they give you?!”

“Del...la...” He wanted to speak, to answer her questions, but his tongue wasn’t cooperating. He wasn’t even certain she could understand that he even said her name. She whirled her head back around as there was a distant thudding at the door once more. He cringed at the noise, hands squirming on either side of his ears at the intrusive feeling it gave him.

“-get him out of here!” Della was wrapping her arm around one side of his body. Storkules couldn’t even recall sitting up at all, but he found his wing slung across the top of her shoulders. Panchito was already on his other side, the pair hoisting him up from the bed together. The nearly toppled over from the sheer weight of the demigod alone. “You’re heavy as a ducking boulder!”

“Si!” Panchito wheezed, as the pair rightened their balance. “You need to help us out a little here, mi amigo!”

“Are you sure he isn’t right by the door anymore?” Della asked as they approached it, Storkules noting the dents that were scattered across it now.

“Si, though I am not certain what made him leave. We should take advantage while we can!” Panchito reached out with one hand to unlock the door, allowing it to swing open with a kick.

“Do you know where he went?” Della’s eyes frantically darting from one end of the hall to the other, the glowing red lights from the alarm washing over her features.

“I do not know,” He admitted, the glowing red amulet on his necklace somehow brighter than the red hue the hallway was engulfed in. The stork found himself staring at the amulet, hypnotized by the appearance. He didn’t know why he felt drawn by it and if his hands were cooperating he would have reached out to it by now. Storkules was suddenly aware they were slowly dragging him forward. He attempted to help, stepping clumsily over his own feet as they went. “I do not know why, but he left. I do not understand what is happening to him! He’s never been like this! Something is wrong!”

“You think?!” Della sarcastically answered with a roll of her eyes. “I think the first clue should have been the whole shooting black magic out of his hands at us!”

“He has never gone and attacked his amigos like that before though! You said someone was holding his soul? From what he has told me I believe that someone is in-why has the noise stopped?” They froze mid-step and Panchito craned his head over his shoulder. “What’s going o-MIERDA!”

“What? What’s happe-“ Della didn’t even get to finish her sentence before losing his support on both sides at the same moment. He stumbled forward, falling face first into the floor as his legs couldn’t currently support his own weight. He laid on his stomach, too sluggish to roll over to see what was happening, but Della sounded scared, downright terrified. “J-Jose, please don’t-shit!”

There was a loud explosion further away from him and a bright white temporarily overshadowing the glowing red hue. Della tripped over Storkules with no warning, her back slamming down beside him. A ringing sound filled the air and he startled when he felt Della rolling the stork onto his back with trembling hands. “Storkules! We need to go right now! I need you to move, please!”

The demigod was just beginning to feel his hands again and was reaching below himself to push up. He didn’t have the strength to though. With a weak voice he was barely able to reply. “...I-I...cannot...Della...need to...”

Della had already gone to face the danger however, voice tense with fear. “Jose, please, why are you attacking us?! I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you throwing your magic at us like that!” 

A ringing filled the air, as yet another explosion rocked the hallway. Storkules’ body was jostled by the movement and his hands clapped back over his years while the sound lingered in his head. Della screamed, pain painting her tone. He found the strength to turn his head, the stork seeing her clinging tightly to her blood drenched arm while she laid on the floor. It was the same one that had been injured earlier in their journey. The same one he had shattered every bone in his mother’s hand. 

The demigod was pushing himself up with a sudden strength he didn’t realize he had at the moment. Sweat was rolling down in rivets down his face. He trembled with hazy vision in the red hue of the background. Storkules needed to save her, to save his sister. He blindly reached for the wall beside him, slowly pulling his body up. Everything temporarily went dark, his body unable to handle the stress of standing.

Della was already standing back up herself, her mechanical leg having been repaired at some point, despite it being broken the last time he had seen her. How long was kept drugged as he was? It must been days at the very least, considering how empty his stomach felt. She cradled her arm with a heaving chest and a grimace. “Godammit! This hurts like hell! Storkules, are you ok walking?! We need to get out of here, while Panchito distracts Jose!”

“We need to leave, now!” Panchito was running full force in their direction, with Della shrieking in surprise when the rooster hoisted her up over her shoulder firefighter style. “Run, Storkules!”

“What the hell, Panchito?!” Della screeched as they went off down the hallway. Storkules began to aimlessly stagger off in their direction, stumbling over his feet as he went, clinging to the wall as best as he could. The drugs were leaving his system thankfully, though he movements were still sluggish. He knew this was going to cause an issue if the parrot were to catch up with them, but he could hardly find the strength to jog. The demigod came to a stop when he caught up to Panchito, Della scowling as she was still slung over his shoulder against her will. “Can you let me down now?!”

“I will not let you down after losing all the blood you have! We need to figure out which direction to get out of here!” He yelled back at her. 

Storkules bent over, hands on his knees as he panted from his sprinting. He couldn’t recall ever being this out of breathe in his existence. He felt rushed, everything having happened so suddenly. Where had Panchito and Jose even came from? And, how did they know Della? He couldn’t understand anything that was happening and his memory from the last however long it had been was hazy. The only thing he could clearly remember was when they had run into-His brain stopped his thoughts, not even recalling what exactly had happened the past few days (?). “Just pick a direction, because nothing is obviously going to clue us in!”

“Dios mío! Fine!” Panchito yelled back at her, the two clearly stressed about the intense situation. The rooster glanced over his unoccupied shoulder, before turning to the left. Though he didn’t sprint again, he kept up a quick pace, Storkules struggling to keep up. “If we run into anyone else, I definitely blame you for all of this! Why are you two even here anyways?”

“We’re-“ Della made eye contact with Storkules with a frown. The demigod offered nothing to her, too exhausted to even interpret exactly what she wanted. “-uh, helping out a Greek Goddess look into these psychos down here. Wait, maybe we can get Hera to get us out here!”

The hope in her eyes and the topic made Storkules want to throw up again. “You said Hera? Zeus’ wife? Is that not your Mami, Storkules?”

“Panchito! No, she’s just a Goddess that we’re working for, it doesn’t really matter who exactly she is. We just need to call her, right?” He couldn’t keep up with them, he was slowing down, throat burning. “Stop, just stop for a minute!”

“We cannot remain here long! Jose or someone else is going to discover us sooner or later!” Panchito stated, though he stopped when it obvious Storkules couldn’t keep up with them any longer. 

“Storkules, what’s wrong? I mean, other than the drugs obviously.” Della asked. 

He pressed his forehead up against the cool metal of the wall he was leaning against. Hot breath washed back from the surface onto the clammy skin and moist feathers of his face. The more the drugs wore off, the more he had flashes of hazy memories pressing up against the forefront of his mind. It had been days. Days of repetitive drugging and interrogation, truths spilling from his bill after the long rounds of sobbing from the effects. He could feel his eyes watering up as he recalled Hera abandoning him when he needed her most. “...we cannot...Εκείνη δεν νοιάζονται για μένa...”

“Storkules?” 

He lifted his head, wiping the sweaty strand of hair from his eyes. He cleared his throat, attempting to reel in the control that was slipping. The demigod attempted to remove all feelings from the words spoken. “Queen Hera has left us to our own devices.”

“What? Are you kidding me? She isn’t going to help us? Hera, you bitch!” She hissed at the air, panting.

Panchito looked alarmed, squeezing her legs. “Perhaps cursing out a Goddess is not the best idea. We did not mean to insult you, Queen Hera!”

“Oh, please! I’m not afraid of her! She’s just-just a-just a-“ Her head flopped back down on the back of Panchito’s shoulder. “I feel...woozy...maybe it was a good idea you were carrying me...you know...the last time I felt all dizzy like this I had to cut off my leg...”

Storkules and Panchito shared matching looks of alarm with one another. The rooster gulped and just laughed weakly in response. “Della, you will be fine. We are going to leave here and you are going to be alright.”

“What about Jose?” Her eyes were squinted, obviously close to passing out. “We need to help him...he needs...help...”

“We will save him; I did not come all this way for nothing!” Panchito vouched, the grip around her legs tightening at the words. “I vow to save Jose when-“

“I do not need any help, meu querido.” He froze midsentence, and slowly turned around to reveal the parrot standing there, every trimmed feather perfectly in place. He leaned against the wall smirking, in a dark suit. His umbrella was by his side in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his coat. 

He yelped in surprise, backing away at the sight. Panchito didn’t expect the parrot to surge forward, black gloved hand wrapped tight grip around upon free shoulder. The rooster released his grip on Della, allowing her unconscious body to slide off his shoulder to the floor behind them. He immediately began to gag when he felt the thumb digging into the base of his throat. Jose lessened the pressure enough that he was able to just barely breath and whisper if need be. He felt as though he were being choked and that he couldn’t do a thing to resist. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the now light pressure of the thumb as he pleaded. “P-Please, Jose, do not do this! I-I know this is not your fault!”

“Oh, I am only carrying out the commands I have received,” The other hand reached out, wing wrapping around the rooster’s back, pulling him closer. Jose’s voice was a sultry whisper. “And, once I have attained what is needed, you will leave this place, or else I will be forced to make you do so.”

“And...and what exactly are your orders?”

He couldn’t see him, but the rooster could imagine the cruel smile. “That is on a need to know basis, Panchito. However, I do have separate orders for intruders. I will allow you to leave, but not before I-“

Jose’s head jerked forward, smashing into Panchito’s face. He staggered forward, with his knees buckled over the weight of Jose collapsing on top of him. The rooster fell onto his back and the parrot landed in an unconscious heap on top of him. Storkules stood above the pair of them, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his face. The rooster stared in shock, ignoring the weight. “Did you...did you knock him unconscious...with your fists?”

The demigod wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped around them. Panchito had expected him to offer a hand to help stand up, but instead the stork walked over to Della. He squatted down and placed his hands underneath her body to lift her up bridal style. He turned back to Panchito with hazy eyes. “Friend Panchito, I offer apologies for my actions. However, we should escape while we still are capable.”

Panchito looked down at Jose and blinked rapidly. He pushed him to the side, allowing his head to thump onto the cold floor below. The blood smeared across his face stuck out against the green feathers and dark suit he wore. The idea of leaving him alone, despite the danger he posed, hurt too much. He looked back up at Storkules. “I cannot leave him here with his captives!”

Storkules appeared pained. “I vowed sanctuary for Della. Friend Jose depicts himself as our enemy, intent on slaying us.” 

“Somebody has brainwashed him! Or possibly taken hold of his-“ He froze, the pieces clicking into place. “Oh dios mio!”

Storkules stares at him with confusion, blinking away the trickle of sweat dripping into his eye from a strand of hair. The rooster shook his head slowly, voice low as he stared back at Jose. “I...I believe someone has control over him and he cannot...fight against it.”

“What curse ails him?”

“It is not a curse, it is...it is la alma,” He could feel the sadness in his heart growing. His soul. Someone had hold over his soul and Jose couldn’t resist in the least. It was like the situation with the Cariocas all over again!

“I pertain little knowledge of the significance behind ‘la alma’. It would prove unwise to remain here longer than necessary however. I believe your Jose possesses companions that will return, including-“ The demigod cut himself off and the grip on Della tightened. If Panchito didn’t know better, he would say Storkules was beginning to grow green again.

“Are you alright, mi amigo? You have once again gone pasty and I would not like a repeat of the last time you did,” Stokrules nodded jerkily, but did not comment further. Panchito knew whatever the topic was the demigod made it obvious he didn’t want to discuss it. He looked back down at Jose with a deep breath. “I cannot leave him here any longer. After everything we have gone through, I could not dream of abandoning Jose. If I would, I could not live with myself knowing I did so.”

Storkules stared at him with wide eyes, voice a breathless whisper. “Τον αγαπάς.”

Panchito didn’t speak Greek, but some words have no boundaries, and he knew Storkules was realizing how much Jose actually meant to him. “He is mi corazón. His is my heart.”

The alarms suddenly shut off, the red light fading from their surroundings. There was a long bout of silence that sounded unnatural after the nonstop noise filling the air previously. Then, far off there was the sound of footsteps, and a sharp high voice barking out orders. Storkules flinched at the sound and backed away until his back touched a wall. Panchito could tell whoever was coming their way set him on edge, and the rooster definitely did not want to meet them. He quickly picked up Jose, surprised at how light he was. It shouldn’t be that easy to lift him as it was and proved that the visions he had were accurate. He turned to the demigod. “Storkules, we should leave before they arrive.”

Storkules startled at his name and the hazy look recited from his eyes. The rooster briefly thought something was wrong, but he also they needed to leave now if they wished to escape. “We need to leave now, mi amigo, otherwise we cannot save the ones we care about.”

The demigod looked down at the duck in his arms. “Aye. I never shall sanction harm to Della. I could not imagine naming myself her companion of this quest if I failed her in this aspect.”

The voices grew louder and the pair looked at one another in a mutual decision to find an escape from that hidden underground bunker in Alaska.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, who the hell CANCELLED Ducktales? Honestly, out of all the nonsense to happen in 2020, this is the cherry on top of the cake. I vote we start a petition, because I cannot imagine never hearing David Tennant playing Scrooge McDuck again.
> 
> Unrelated to my distraught state of the cancellation, updates will likely be on a monthly basis now, due to my college schoolwork. As always, thank you for the kudos and comments. See you all in the new year!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Spanish:  
MIERDA: SHIT
> 
> Dios Mio: My God
> 
> La alma: The soul
> 
> Mi corazón: My heart
> 
> Greek:  
Εκείνη δεν νοιάζονται για μένa:  
She does not care about me
> 
> Τον αγαπάς: You love him
> 
> Portuguese:  
Meu querido: My dear


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Talks of suicide and abusive behavior.

The moment the door closed behind them, Huey, Dewey, and Louie avoided eye contact. In the distance they heard the low tones of Donald and Uncle Scrooge. Far down the hall came the scribbling of a pen a nurse used and the typing of the computer a moment later. After a few minutes of silence, Dewey looked over at Louie, whose red rimmed eyes were reflected by the bright light of the phone he pulled out. Huey now held his copy of the Woodchuck guide, rubbing at the corner of the page he was on. The duck in the blue shirt groaned loudly, the pair beside him startling at the sound. “Are we just gonna pretend like Dad didn’t just tell us he’s the Duckavenger?”

Louie looked up with a frown, eyes glinting with ill intent. “Who?”

Dewey snatched his phone away. Louie glared at the action, though he didn’t reach for it. The other duck was tall enough now, that Dewey could keep it out of his reach if he desired so. “You know who I’m talking about!” 

Huey looked up from his book with the a glare matching the duck in the green hoodie. “Probably because he is our uncle, Dewford.”

Dewey hand swiped at the book in his brother’s hands, allowing it to thud loudly to the floor. “Don’t you call me that you pretentious-“

Huey’s hands balled into fists as the book fell, though when he cut in his voice remained strangely calm. “Uncle Donald said he doesn’t want any of us to fight and I am not about to be pulled into your childish behavior.”

“Oh, go ahead, act all high and mighty like you always do. Always looking down on us, thinking you’re better.”

“As the mature older sibling, it is my duty to-“

“We are triplets!” He argued furiously in return. “You are not our older brother and I’m getting sick and tired of hearing you say that shit!”

“Well, I’m becoming sick and tired of you being a jerk all the time! You have done nothing, except yell at us ever since Uncle Donald returned!” Despite Huey’s earlier words, it was obvious he was becoming riled up.

“I’m not being a jerk and if you think I’m just doing it for the hell of it, you obviously haven’t understand anything I’ve said!”

“I don’t understand anything, because you refuse to properly explain why you are so angry all the time! And then you suddenly drop that bomb shell that apparently Mom beats you or whatever you could possibly be imagining!”

Dewey’s face twisted as he snarled. “Of course you think I’m making it up! Of course you think I would just randomly say Mom hurt me for attention!”

“Why else would you be saying this?! What other possible reason would you suddenly tell us this?!”

“Maybe because it’s true! And then she just left without a goodbye or at the very least a sorry for hurting me! Maybe if she just-“ Dewey stopped and stared at his other brother who was turning red in the face from the outburst. Then he looked over to see Louie sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, with a green hood over his head. “...Louie, are you ok?”

Huey seemed to realize his other brother had been silent during their fight as well. Louie didn’t respond, only shrugging his shoulders instead. Dewey sat down next to him, placing a hand on his back. A moment later Huey joined them, though he sat on the opposite side of Louie. A moment later, his wet voice spoke up. “...why’s Uncle Donald pretending so hard for us not to see him to be hurt? We all know he has PTSD and he keeps trying to hide it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to look weak,” Dewey answered, staring at the wall across from them. “He wants to be strong and doesn’t want us to know when he suffers. He would probably hate me saying it, but he’s a lot like Uncle Scrooge.”

The three let out barks of laughter at the words. Huey shook his head with a roll of his eyes. “Uncle Donald would probably storm off to sulk for the rest of the day if he heard you say that.”

Louie smiled. “More like a week.”

Dewey’s smile faded after a long moment though. He let his forehead touch his knees and he squeezed his eyes shut. Without looking up he spoke softly. “...I sometimes think he’s the only person in the world that understands me.”

“Only because you actually confide in him,” Huey replied gently. “Even if we can’t understand what the problem is, we can at least listen. It’s hard to even excuse you acting the way you are lately though, when there’s no rhyme or reason to your behavior.”

“I know, it’s the just...sometimes I’m scared there’s something wrong with me,” His voice had become meek at the confession. “Sometimes...sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to do something really bad and I don’t think I can control it.”

“Dude, did you think I of all ducks wouldn’t understand that?” Louie asked him, making his brother look up. “The one with depression? I honestly used to feel like nothing was in control. I used just lay in bed all day and couldn’t even tell my own body to move.”

Dewey sniffled and laughed weakly. “Yeah, I guess I’m really stupid for believing that then....”

“You’re not stupid,” Huey’s eyebrows were furrowed together. “I don’t know why you think that, but you are not stupid.”

He looked up. “It feels like it a lot though. I honestly just feel like everything I do is a stupid reaction to things.”

“You know what’s really stupid, Dewey? Not believing your brother when he says their mom hurt them.” Huey’s eyes shone with shame. Dewey just stared at him, until Huey reached out to wrap his arms around his brother in the blue shirt. 

“Hey!” Louie had nearly be shoved aside in the process and glowered at them. “Watch it, I’m being all sad here, and you guys are messing it all up!”

“I hope I’m messing things up for you! What kinda brother am I if I don’t?” Dewey laughed, pulling Louie in to join the hug as well.

Louie rolled his eyes. “Anddd he’s back.”

“Shut up, you know you like me like this,” Louie made a groaning that indicated he did not. Dewey felt his smile grow at the exasperation and tightened his hug until the pair grunted from being squeezed. “Sorry I’ve been a jerk lately, I just have...a lot of things I’m trying to figure out.”

“It would help if you actually went back to therapy,” Louie answered. “And, if you don’t want the same one as before, we can help you find a new one, ok?”

He didn’t want to tell them he didn’t like the experience though, how he felt as though nobody actually listened to his true feelings. He knew he needed help though and maybe trying one more time wouldn’t hurt. Maybe someone new would actually help him with all the angry feelings he had right now. Instead of answering, he nodded, allowing his head to fall onto Huey’s shoulder as they sat there in the hallway. A moment later Huey loudly exclaimed. “There is no way though that Uncle Donald is the Duckavenger!”

Dewey’s head jerked back up. “I know, right?! It doesn’t make any sense! Like Dad of all people?! There’s no way he’s done something that cool!”

“I mean, wasn’t he in the Navy though?” Louie mused and the other two thought about it as well. “We still don’t really know why he left though.”

“Honestly, I believe he was honorably discharged.” Huey speculated. 

“What? For what?” Louie furrowed his eyebrows.

“I have a theory that his anger was an issue,” Huey elaborated further. “Along with the symptoms of his obvious PTSD.”

“How long have you been talking to that therapist?” Dewey asked and Louie punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! I was just kidding! I don’t know how you guys can stand listening to that guy. I feel like he didn’t do much to help.”

“I think you’re the only one,” Louie replied with a frown. “He really helped me a lot.”

“Well, like I said, I don’t like that guy, and I guess if I’m gonna be honest I’m starting to feel pretty skeptical about how much help a therapist can actually give me.”

“You sound exactly like Uncle Donald saying that. Remember when he went through four other anger management therapists before he found Jones?” Huey answered. “I remember he used to say they were all ‘quacks’ every time he would quit them.”

“I don’t remember that at all.” Dewey frowned.

“I don’t either.” Louie looked bewildered.

Huey flushed and shook his head rapidly. “Oops, uh, must be remembering it wrong.”

Dewey frowned at the suspicious behavior, noticing his brother’s high pitched tone, and how he avoided eye contact. “I thought we said no more secrets! We all promised we wouldn’t anymore.” Huey looked frozen for a long moment, before he hesitantly began. “I don’t think Uncle Donald wants to talk about it...but every time he quit a therapist he may have...come home drunk and said things I don’t think I should repeat?”

Louie’s eyes widened. “Uncle Donald? He hardly ever drinks! There’s no way!”

“Well, that...he would,” Huey looked uncomfortable admitting this. “Since my bed was the closet to the front door of the boat house...he...he would wake me up stumbling in and making a mess.”

“And this only happened four times, right?” Louie echoed and the other two watched their brother squirm. “Huey?”

“It may have...happened when he would come home late at night on the anniversary of Mom’s disappearance and some other random times when we were little?” Dewey and Louie stared at him with wide eyes. “Uncle Donald didn’t do anything crazy though! He never yelled or became violent...he just...became really sad...and would share things that he didn’t remember sharing the next day...”

“Like what exactly?” Louie asked worriedly.

“Um, I don’t think I shoul-“ He cut himself off at the look his brothers gave him. “He may have...said a few times he wanted to...wanted to...leave us behind...and stop...existing...”

Louie had squeezed his fists tightly as his eyes widened further. Dewey opened his bill and closed it a few times. He finally spoke, with a low voice. “I guess at every point of our lives somebody hasn’t wanted us, huh?”

“You’re seriously focusing on that, when Huey said Uncle Donald WANTED TO KILL HIMS-“ Huey slapped a hand over Louie’s bill as his voice rose. Louie pushed the hand away and started over with a lower voice. “I understand that isn’t good he wanted to leave, but I think it might be worse that he didn’t want to live anymore, Dewey!”

“I’m not saying that isn’t bad either, I just-!” Dewey released a sob and buried his face into his hands. “H-He...he didn’t want us...he...nobody has ever wanted me!”

Louie and Huey shared bewildered looks with one another at the sudden crying. Louie reached out, rubbing a hand up and down his brother’s back. “Dude, that isn’t true at all. I want you in my life. You may upset me sometimes and are kinda annoying, but I don’t know where I would be without you.”

“Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald love all of us, they just are afraid sometimes,” Huey decidedly didn’t mention their mother, as he was worried that would sent off another round of anger. “Uncle Donald...he would say he didn’t deserve to raise us and that was why he wanted to leave.”

Dewey glanced back up slowly. “What...why would he...? I don’t understand...what else did he say that you’ve been hiding?”

“I wasn’t hiding it, I was just...alright, yes, I was hiding it because I was worried if I told anyone...if I told anyone, they would take us away from Uncle Donald. I mean, yes, the first time I saw it happen I was only four, and it may be my earliest memory-“

“WHAT?!” Louie yelped. The nurse at the reception desk looked up with a raised eyebrow. “He came home stumbling over everything drunk when we were four?! He didn’t drive home did he?”

“No, there was always a taxi that dropped Uncle Donald off, and then he would come in, and when he would sit down at the kitchen table, and then I would come out to see what was happening. And then, I kinda always sat at the table and listened to help spill everything he didn’t usually talk about, and he would always start crying-“ Louie thought about the handful of times he had caught their uncle crying in his cot, thinking he was alone. “-and I would just listen, because he didn’t have Jones yet, and he would never remember what he did the next morning, so it was completely fine!”

“That doesn’t sound fine!” Dewey yell whispered in reply. “It sounds the opposite of fine, because he shouldn’t have been saying shit like that to any of us when we were four!”

“Huey, you seriously never told us this until now? You never told Uncle Donald what he was doing once he got drunk?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant since he did it less when he had Jones, and then stopped all together once we moved in with Uncle Scrooge.”

“Huey! Seriously! Think about what you just said!” Dewey was staring at him with wild eyes.

Huey blinked slowly at him and his face went lax. “Oh my god, our family is really messed up.”

“You think?” Louie intoned. “And, I thought you of all people knew that mental illness runs in families, and that having stressful situations from a young age can be damaging to your brain.”

“Not my brain!” Huey yelped, hands pressing to his temples in a panic. “Oh my god, I was only four when Uncle Donald said he wanted to leave us!”

“He said that first?!” Dewey was pulled at the feathers on his head. “How the hell have you been coping with that?!”

“I may have been...burying deep inside and ignoring it since it no longer happened?”

“I can’t do this.” Louie had pulled his hoodie over his head and got up to head down the hall. 

“Where are you going?!” Dewey yelled after him. Louie never replied though and Dewey looked back to his brother. “Why didn’t you tell us? I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell us about that of all things!”

“Because, I’m the older brother. It’s my duty to protect you two from harm.”

“I am seriously about to hit you! We both told you already that you’re not our older brother and you don’t have to protect us! What part of that do you not understand?”

“But, I am-“

“No, we can protect ourselves! You’re acting like Mom! You’re being controlling and hurtful!”

Huey had snapped his bill shut, shoulders drawn in. “...I apologize if I haven’t been the best brother, but I don’t like to see either of you hurt. I can’t just stop wanting to help, because I don’t want to see you upset anymore.”

Dewey deflated at the words. “Huey, you can’t stop me from feeling upset sometimes, and you can’t always watch over us. You don’t need to step up, when you think no one else will.”

“...but, if I don’t, who will?” 

“Someone else, I thought the Moon Invasion proved that to you. We all stood up against the invasion, even...even Della did, even after she almost flew us away before we caught on to her plan, and convinced her not to.”

“I have...a hard time not feeling that way,” Huey confessed. “And, it’s weird you’re not calling her Mom, you know that?”

“I...I don’t think I can call her that again until she shows she actually cares.”

Huey inhaled deeply. “I don’t agree with that, but if that is what you want, I will support your decision...just like I will support your decision to protect yourself.”

Dewey smiled at him. “I love you, Huey.”

“I love you, too,” Huey easily replied, appearing as though a weight had been eased from his shoulders. “We should go find Louie though. I’m pretty certain Uncle Scrooge or Uncle Donald wouldn't want us wandering around when they told us to stay put.”

“Ugh, why did he have to just walk off? I have no idea where he would even go right now!”

“Probably somewhere alone. I feel as though the roof may be the best place to check first,” Huey began to head down the hallway to the elevator, Dewey following along. “A text may help as well.”

“Got it!” Dewey already was shooting out one, asking where he had gone. “Hopefully he’ll answer before Dad and Uncle Scrooge are done.”

*

“I can’t believe Huey of all people would hide something that big from me! I thought we agreed not to hide things anymore after we found out about Mom!” Louie grumbled to himself as he stalked down the hallway, heading to the elevator.

He planned on heading down to the cafeteria to hide away as he sorted his thoughts on what Huey had told them. His Uncle Donald, coming home wasted when they were barely starting school? He wasn’t even aware he left once they were asleep to do so. He left behind three four-year-olds on a pier to go out drinking, not even telling a single soul where he had gone. What were they supposed to if he finally decided he truly didn’t want to be there anymore? Were they expected to wake up one morning with no idea where their guardian was? Louie scoffed to himself, jabbing the elevator’s button multiple times to call it up. 

When the doors slid open, Louie headed inside, distantly hearing the sounds from the hospital fade away to silence. He stared at the floors in an attempt to remember which he needed to press, when they all lit up, and suddenly the elevator began to head down on it’s own. He staggered at the unexpected movement, catching himself on the railing behind him. “What the hell?”

Was he heading to the ground floor? He couldn’t even tell as he began his descent. Louie figured the stupid thing must have had a glitch considering his luck. He rolled his eyes, pressing the button he now remembered as being the floor. The elevator went past the floor however and he groaned. He was probably stuck now, as it was now definitely obvious something had gone wrong. Louie looked at the buttons diminishing as he went past each floor, approaching ground level. He reached out to press the emergency button, but his hand stalled when the elevator continued it’s descent, despite the fact he had already gone past the first floor now.

The elevator stopped and the doors slowly slid open to reveal the pitch dark basement. He noticed the boiler from the light of the elevator, though he couldn’t see much else from where he stood. Knowing his luck, this was likely a kidnapping attempt. Though it had been awhile since any of Scrooge’s enemies had managed to capture a member of the McDuck family, Louie wouldn’t put it past one of them to strike when Uncle Donald was in the hospital. He had his money on Mark Beaks, since he had a flair for the dramatic, and this constituted as such.

He heard a creaking in the dark and he released a sigh. “Oh boy...Ok, look, I don’t really wanna do this today, alright? I’m too tired for this right now. So, just leave me alone.”

There was no reply, but the duck could have sworn a shadow walked by, barely seen by the light from behind him. He felt a chill roll down his spine at the sight, feeling as though this was beyond Beaks now. “H-Hello? Stop being all creepy and come out. I really don’t wanna have to wait from Uncle Scrooge to come save me, again.”

The elevator light flickered and the creaking sounding closer than before. Louie immediately began to jab at the elevator close button. Nothing happened though. He held down the first floor button, as the lights flickered again, though this time they stayed off longer. He was pressing buttons at random at this point, beginning to grow afraid of who was out there. A cold sweat broke out along his brow line and he squeezed eyes shut. He opened them to full darkness and he gasped. A moment later the small emergency light of the elevator came on and his eyes darted around to see if anyone had finally approached. He was greeted with silence and he felt the tension leave his body as the elevator doors finally shut. “Whew...must have just malfunctioned or something. Actually thought I was about to be-“

A clammy hand covered Louie’s eyes from behind and he screamed in terror. He felt himself being held in place, and he thrashed against whoever stood behind him. He heard someone shush him in reply, and a moment later he found he couldn’t release a single sound, as though he was somehow prevented from doing so. Louie thrashed harder than before, throwing his elbows out behind him, but was met only with empty air. The conflicting message made tears of frustration, fear, and confusion roll down his face in a silent sob. “Can you keep a Secret?”

A thousand whispers spoke at once, an echo slowly fading away. He was now frozen, unable to even react in the least to the terrifying sound. His throat burned, as though he were about to throw up, and the words were released unbidden from his stomach.“Y-Yes!”

The violent scent of rose assaulted his burning nostrils, overwhelming. His hands shook as he felt as intense power bearing down on him. His legs shook and he fell down to his knees. The hand had gone, though he knew whatever being tormented him remained. The voice sounded as though it was directly in his head. “One, two, three, you may choose the deed.”

“O-One!” He was certain he was going to throw up any second now, as his body was slowly crushed by the presence. His hands thudded against the floor painfully, panting from the agony he felt.

“Οι θεοί δεν πεθαίνουν ποτέ.” The Gods never die. He shouldn’t know what that meant. It was Greek. He knew it was Greek, Storkules spoke that, but Louie didn’t. Why did he know the meaning? He had never felt more terrified in his life. “Το δρεπάνι του Κρόνου καταστρέφει την αγάπη.” Saturn's scythe destroys love.

Blood dripped from his nostrils and he looked up to see glowing red eyes greedily watching him from above now. A shadowy hand extended to him. “Llewellyn Duck, what Secret may you keep?”

“I really hate Mom for leaving us!” He wiped at the blood, feeling it smear across his face. “Why did she leave us?! Dewey is right, she doesn’t even want us!”

“The exchange is performed,” The red eyes widened. “Would you be one to call upon when the need arises?”

“I-I don’t know what that means!” He spit out, feeling faint. “P-Please, just let me go! It-It-It hurts, you’re hurting me, I’m bleeding, I’m about to t-throw up!”

Everything went silent and then the lights suddenly came back on. The elevator doors slid open with a ping, having arrived to the ground floor. Blood drizzled down his face, across the title floor, feeling as though he had encountered something his brain couldn’t comprehend. He wanted his family, he wanted his family now, or he was about to scream, not even caring who would hear if he did. Instead though, he wrapped his wings around his shins in a motion of self comfort.Tears were streaming down his face and he buried his head into his knees.

The elevator began to rise once more on it’s own and he whispered fervently to himself. “Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, please, please please...” 

The doors opened and he flinched as a shadow crossed over his body. “Uhh, Louie?”

His eyes snapped open to see Dewey standing there with a furrowed brow, and Huey beside him with a concerned expression. He laid there on the floor, finding the lights from the hallway to be too bright for his fragile state. He focused in on the rose sitting on the in front of him with blurred vision, a sob ripping from his throat. Louie reached out to resentfully crush it, the moist petals leaving a dark red smear across his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry for not updating sooner! School has been kicking my butt and I’m just trying my best to finish off my semester. It may be at least another month before any further updates, but I will definitely try my best to get another chapter out sooner than the last time.
> 
> As far as Donald being revealed to having an abusive behavior, I intended this as a way to exhibit how he isn’t the perfect guardian, and how mental illness can warp someone enough to do horrible things to those they love. I know you readers have a lot of flack for Della and in no way did I mean for a hatred of her character in this story. She does mean well, but her own trauma has definitely made her go about her actions the wrong way. The same for Donald in this sense. He tries his best for the boys, which is why he seeked therapy in the first place, but he has been damaged over the years, and this can provide a poor sense of judgement in reaction. Drinking is a bad self medicating reaction to his PTSD he had previously. He obviously has better self care habits now, though he will definitely have to face his actions of the past once the boys speak to him about it.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duck in the green hoodie instead starting pacing back and forth across the room. Without any hesitation, he started to spew all of the words boiling furiously in his chest. “Why did you keep it a secret from us? Why didn’t you tell us you used to be the Duckavenger?”

“Dude, why are you laying on the ground?” Dewey asked from above Louie with a frown. “And why does it smell like a bunch of perfume in here? Gross!”

“Are you alright?” Huey asked as he squatted beside his fallen brother, hand resting upon his shoulder.

Louie flung the remains of the rose in his hand to the side with a snarl. “Of course I’m not ok! Why would the blood all over my face make you think I am?!”

Huey blinked slowly at him. “What blood?”

“What? Seriously, are you blind or-“ Louie was touching his face, finding it perfectly dry. He stared at his hands, shocked that he didn’t have a smear of red leftover from doing so. He yanked his phone out his jacket pocket, turning on the camera to stare at his completely clean features. “What...? How....I was literally bleeding out all over the floor!”

“Ok, you’re starting to freak me out, dude. Are you actually going to say something that makes sense?” Dewey looked uncomfortable by his brother’s meltdown.

“You look pale, Louie. Do you need me to fetch the nurse?” Huey was reaching out to press the back of hand to Louie’s forehead. “You feel like ice!”

Louie swatted it away. “I know I was bleeding! I could feel it and taste...my mouth! It was in my mouth! Why didn’t you guys try to call the elevator earlier?! I was stuck down there for at least twenty minutes!”

“Twenty mi-Louie, are you sure? You weren’t even gone for five minutes before we went to search for you.” The duck in the red hat had scrunched up his eyebrows in concern.

“No, I was stuck in the basement for at least twenty minutes and I was bleeding because of whatever was in-“ Louie found his voice to be lost suddenly and he reached a frantic hand to his throat. “What happened to my voice?! Wait, why-?”

“I’m gonna get the nurse, because you’re not making any sense at all, and you kinda look like you’re about to throw up.” Dewey was already turning away from the other two.

“I don’t need the nurse! I need to understand what I sa-“ His voice was once more lost and he pounded a fist against the elevator floor, the machine now insistently beeping for Huey to move, so that the doors could actually close. “WHY CAN’T I TALK ABOUT IT?!”

“Dude, that’s it, I’m going to get the nurse!” Dewey was practically running down the hall, obviously worried about the sanity of his brother.

Louie groaned and looked to Huey desperately. “I’m not being crazy about this, I promise. I’m trying to tell you guys what happened, but for some reason every time I try to bring it up my voice just stops for some reason.”

Huey was rubbing a hand along his spine, feeling the trembling running through Louie’s body. “I think you’re just scared about whatever happened. You were saying you were in the basement? After a nurse comes by to make sure you’re fine we can just go down to look ourselves and you can show us.”

“No, no! I don’t want to back down there! I honestly thought I went into Hell! I thought I was going to die for literally no reason! I thought whatev-“ His voice cut out again and he finally found tears in his eyes. “I JUST WANT TO SAY IT!”

“Louie, you don’t have to say anything, alright? I think you’re not feeling well-“

Louie sat up with a huff and shook his head. “I’m fine! Let’s just go back to Uncle Donald! I don’t need the nurse!”

Dewey had arrived with the nurse at the same moment Louie had said this. He was already standing, pushing past the others furiously. The nurse stared on in surprise and confusion, while the duck in the blue shirt shouted after him. “Dude, where are you going now?!”

“I’m going back to the room so we can just go home!” Louie shot back, already heading down the hallway. The nurse stared at Dewey with an incredulous expression and the duck in the blue shirt shrugged sheepishly. 

“I believe he’s fine, thank you for the help though,” Huey informed the nurse with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He turned back to Dewey as she retreated back to her station with a grumble of dissatisfaction. “I’m not sure what happened, but he’s really shaken up by it.”

“I mean if he just told us what’s going on we can help? Didn’t we just have a conversation about this a few minutes ago?”

“I don’t think he can. It was almost like he couldn’t say anything? He was saying he was stuck in the basement-“ He walked back over to press the button for the elevator. The doors immediately opened and he stepped inside to look at the options. “-so maybe we can head down to take a...”

Dewey stepped in as he noticed his brother trail off. “What?”

“...there is no option to go to the basement. The lowest options is the ground floor.”

“Okkkkk, then what the hell is Louie talking about?”

“I’m not sure, but I think the only way we’ll find out more information is to talk with Louie further.” They exited the elevator and headed back to the room with a sense of unease. Dewey glanced over his shoulder suspiciously at the elevator doors as they shut, feeling as though they had completely missed what should have been seen.

*  
Louie nearly barged into the hospital room, but remembered that his uncles likely wouldn’t appreciate that after what they had said earlier. He knocked rapidly and waited a moment before entering without a reply. He found Uncle Scrooge and Donald sitting beside one another on the bed with twin looks of surprise at the sudden intrusion. “Lad? Are you alright? You look as though you encountered a spirit!”

“Louie? Come here.” The sailor called him over, concern painted vividly across his face.

The duck in the green hoodie instead starting pacing back and forth across the room. Without any hesitation, he started to spew all of the words boiling furiously in his chest. “Why did you keep it a secret from us? Why didn’t you tell us you used to be the Duckavenger?”

Donald clenched his bill. “I...had reservations about you boys knowing my secrets and all the trouble that comes with them.”

“Why? You don’t need to protect us! We already know you have a lot of things in your life you haven’t told us! We can handle ourselves!”

“Louie, why are you doing that? You’re nearly driving yourself up the walls with how furiously you’re walking! Come sit down so you may speak to Donald about this properly.” Scrooge asked him firmly. 

“No! I need to know why! You were acting all weird! You’ve been acting really weird! It’s almost like you couldn’t...” Louie paused and turned slowly to him. “...as though you couldn’t actually talk about it.”

Scrooge turned to Donald with a frown. “Donald? What does he mean about that? Are you...I suspected something was the matter, but I am going to ask you once again: do you have a curse on you?”

Donald glared at his uncle. “I already told you no!”

“Why can’t you talk about that then?!” Louie came to an abrupt halt as he shouted to the surprise of the pair. Huey and Dewey appeared by the doorway at this moment, both sporting obvious concerned looks. They weren’t acknowledged, though they stepped into the room to see what the commotion was about.

“What in God’s green earth has gotten into you?” Scrooge stared at him as though he had a second head.

“Probably whatever Louie thinks in the imaginary basement of the hospital.” Dewey answered.

“What?” Donald’s eyes flickered to the duck on the blue shirt, then back to Louie with alarm.

“It wasn’t imaginary! None of what I went through was!”

“I think you’re maybe feeling stressed right now,” Huey came up behind Louie and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps we should go home now.”

“No, I’m not leaving until I figure out this-this-ugh!” Louie cried out. “I still can’t say anything!”

The sailor stared at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean by ‘can’t’?”

“Every time I try to my voice just disappears! It’s almost like someone just steals-“

“-your ability to talk...” Donald’s face fell and he turned a pale shade. His voice continued on, though with a mild tremble in it this time. “Louie...what’s that on your hand?”

Louie raised his hand to stare down at the red smear from the rose he crushed in a grip earlier. “...it...was from a rose, but that doesn’t matter! I went down to the basement and-and-!”

Donald went a shade of green, before Scrooge shoved the trash bin back into his hands. He didn’t throw up however and gently set it back onto the bed. He stood up, reaching out blindly for his crutch as he went ashen. He slowly approached Louie who started at him with now mounting concern. Scrooge followed directly behind, hands outstretched as though to catch him if the sailor were to take a tumble in his shock. “Donald, perhaps it would be best if you were sit back down. You’ve gone a bit gray around the gills.”

He ignored him and reached out to firmly grasp his shoulder. He stared down into Louie’s eyes, voice low. “Tell me what happened, Louie.”

“I-I can’t even say...” His voice was watery in reply, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

Donald coaxed Louie’s head forward until his face rested upon his uncle’s chest. “It’s alright...I know you can’t. Everything will be fine. You’re going to be ok.”

“I-I don’t-“ Louie cut himself off laughing with a tinge of hysteria. “I can’t even talk! I can’t event talk! What’s wrong with me?! What did-what’s happening to me?!”

“I promise you that everything will be ok. There wasn’t any harm meant, it’s just a lot for us to see.”

“No harm?! No harm?! I was-I’m-I can’t even stop shaking!” Louie pulled himself away from the grip with a cry, raising a trembling hand to present to his uncle. 

“I know you’re scared, Louie, and it will happen again, but I promise you I can help you be more ready for it next time.”

“No! I am not going to go through that again!” He shouted, backing away until his back hit the wall of the hospital. “I’m not ok at all! I finally figure out what’s wrong with me and figure out how to deal with being sad and suddenly now I’m losing my mind! I’m insane! I have to be insane!”

Donald’s face was crestfallen at the sight of the retreating form of his nephew. “You’re not insane, I promise you. Please, Louie, just look at me. You know I would never lie about this or hide something like that from you.”

“Alright, what the devil is going on here? And don’t even start with any of that ‘I cannot tell you’ nonsense. I want to know what exactly you and Louie are prattling on about!” Scrooge sternly cut in, approaching the pair as well.

“Uncle Scrooge, not right now!” The sailor whisper-hissed without looking away from Louie. “Louie, you’re going to be ok, I promise. Just don’t...don’t ever...have you said yes?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Have you already said yes when you were asked the question?”

“...n-no...I didn’t understand...I don’t understand the question.”

“You don’t have to say yes, do you understand that?” Donald was slowly approaching with hands raised in a placating gesture.

Louie was deflating, sitting down onto the floor while breathing deeply, and his uncle coming down with him. “I understand what you’re saying Uncle Donald...b-but, I don’t understand the rest of it? I felt like I was losing my mind, everything hurts right now. Please, tell me what’s happening! I don’t think I can...I don’t think I can handle not knowing!”

“I can’t...I won’t be able to say it either. I will never be able to unless...” Donald swallowed thickly and stared back to Scrooge. “...I can’t even say that. If you want to know, you have to...”

“Lad, you’re saying you’re not cursed, but why can you not speak about this? I don’t understand what could possibly stop you from doing so. Is this another one of your secrets?”

“I can’t say anything, Uncle Scrooge. I...I wish I could, but I can’t,” Donald hung his head, before raising a pointed finger to his uncle. “You...you. You.”

“What?” Scrooge asked at the repeating words.

“Uncle Donald,” Huey finally spoke up, pulling out his guide to flip through as he addressed the sailor. “You say you’re not under a curse, correct?”

“I’m not,” He raised his head back up, with what appeared to be a look of hope in his eyes. “If anyone would...it would be you boys.”

“That isn’t a complete sentence though. Is that a part of the issue? It should be ‘if anyone could figure it out’...wait-“ Huey looked up from the guide. “Do we...do we have to figure it out on our own?”

All of the ducks in the room looked to Donald for confirmation, though he didn’t verbally answer, or indicate in any physical manner that Huey’s hypothesis was correct. He looked pained however, as he spoke through gritted teeth. “I can’t tell you anything else.”

“I’m probably just reading in between the lines, but that sounds suspiciously like a yes.” Dewey said.

“That sounds more than a confirmation to me. That sounds like the makings of a quest to me,” Scrooge announced, before he frowned. “Though it will be difficult splitting our focus between your issue and locating Della’s whereabouts.”

“I doubt she even wants to be found,” Donald said bitterly, switching tracks at the mention of his sister. “She never wants to be when she’s off on her own.”

“Isn’t she with Storkules though? That’s not really alone at all.” Dewey asked in confusion.

Donald snorted. “Doesn’t matter to Della, because she’ll always find a way to be alone. Can’t even begin to count how many times she’s just ditched me to go off on her own when we’re all out on an adventure.”

“I’ll task Miss Duck to look at some possibilities I’ve thought of and narrow down the locations.” Scrooge replied with a frown at the words.

Donald groaned, while he rubbed a soothing hand across the back of Louie’s neck in a gesture of comfort. “God, why do you have to make her do that?”

“Oh, whose ‘Miss Duck’?” Dewey waggled his eyebrows.

“Nobody important,” Donald protested with a roll of his eyes. Louie seemed to be finally relaxing, as the conversation drifted to a normal topic, allowing his troubles to temporarily fade away. “Only Uncle Scrooge’s blackmailing receptionist that has it out for him.”

“I doubt Miss Duck ‘has out for me’. I believe she, as many, take offense to my previous work ethics, that I have very obviously altered by this point in my career. Other that her disregard for my authority, she has been hardworking, and appropriately taken care of all tasks I have assigned her.”

“Ugh, maybe it’s Uncle Scrooge that has the crush on her.” Dewey crinkled his face.

“Dewey, gross!” Louie groaned, covering his ears with his hands. 

“I have no such feelings for my receptionist!” Scrooge thundered at his nephews.

“Probably because he has them for Goldie.” Huey chimed in, continuing to flip through his guide for what could hopefully solve Donald’s dilemma and tell them the answers they needed.

“Shut your traps, the whole lot of you!” Scrooge pointed his cane at his family in general.

Louie removed his hands from his ears with a sigh, obviously unable to block out the conversation. “I don’t know why you deny it, when it’s super obvious that Aunt Goldie feels the same way.”

“How many times do I have to say not to call that conniving vixen that?!”

“Uncle Scrooge, just let them call her that if they want to.” Donald said, pinching the bridge of his bill in annoyance.

“He’s not ever going to, because then that means he’s finally going to admit he wants to marry her!” Dewey made kissy noises.

Scrooge gave him a stern glare, and Dewey went silent at the look, though he looked as though he wanted to say more about the subject. “Look here, if I’m going to admit anything to that thieving harlot, it’s that I’m a far superior treasure hunter than she is!”

“It’s no use, boys: He won’t ever say a single thing about his relationship with her.” Donald sighed.

“That’s right! See, your Uncle Donald has some common sens-“ Scrooge blinked at his nephew, before he snapped. “There is not any sort of relationship between us whatsoever!”

“Of course, Uncle Scrooge.” Donald replied with a roll of the eyes.

“I sure hope that you do!” Scrooge pointed his cane at him, though he relaxed a moment later when no one else said anything further about the subject. Dewey was covering his bill though, shoulders shaking from his concealed laughter. The older duck glowered at him and spoke in a firm voice to the group. “I am going to leave you with the boys for a bit, while I go have your discharge paperwork written up. I better not hear another peep about this Goldie nonsense as I leave.”

He left before they could reply, with narrowed eyes as he watched the group hold in their words about Goldie. When Scrooge had gone, Donald waved the boys over to the bedside, and they practically bolted to sit beside their uncle. “It doesn’t matter how much any of you try, Uncle Scrooge isn’t going to budge on how he feels. Me and Della already tried for years.”

“Uncle Donald’s right: Uncle Scrooge is extremely stubborn, despite how obvious it is that he cares for Aunt Goldie.” Huey chimed in.

“He’s the last person in the world that’s ever going to actually be in a relationship.” Louie agreed.

“Actually, I think Uncle Donald would be. I couldn’t ever imagine him seriously dating someone!” Dewey laughed.

“Hey!” Donald glared at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s a lie! You haven’t ever been further than one date with anyone the entire time you’ve raised us!”

“That’s only because I haven’t found the right person yet! Once I do, it will be smooth sailing from there.”

“Uncle Donald, the day you actually date someone is going to be the day I actually have to give Louie that $50 I bet on you, which I’m definitely not a Deweying.”

“You boys place bets on me dating someone?”

“Why wouldn’t I bet on that?” Louie replied. “I see an opportunity to make bank, because I know it’s gonna actually happen one of these days.”

“At least one of you believes in me, unless you have something to add in too, Huey.” Donald narrowed his eyes at his nephew.

“Ohhhh, um, well, statistically speaking you don’t have the best track record-“ Huey was stuttering over this words, cringing at what he was saying.

“Never mind, I don’t want to know what you think. Datings not my priority though. That would be you boys,” He smiled at them, squeezing them tight into a hug. The trio all looked at one another with varying degrees of guilt, obviously feeling as though they were responsible for their uncle not having a romantic life. “And, you three will always be my first priority.”  
*

“I finally brought your blanket back today,” Daisy announced as she entered the still room, gently shutting the door behind her. Slung across her opposite wing was a pink fluffy blanket, with her large purse laying on top. “I told you it would be back in a jiffy.”

She approached the bedside, the heart monitor beeping steadily. The purse was removed from her grip, laid gently upon the bedside table. Daisy unfolded the blanket and gently laid it across the smaller duck’s unconscious form. A small smile graced her features and she reached out a hand to stroke the long white hair spread out across the pillow. The yellow ribbon tied into a bow upon the younger duck’s head had begun to come unraveled and Daisy retied it with a firm hand. She looks like a perfect little angel, the older duck thought as tears began to swim in her eyes. “Happy Birthday, June.”

Daisy pulled up the hospital chair beside the bed, allowing the tears to roll down her cheeks. It seemed the waterproof mascara was a good choice for the day, as there wasn’t a single smear of the makeup. “I wish you would wake up, baby. It’s been a really long time since I’ve last heard your voice and...and I miss you so much now. I miss hearing you talk about that boy Will you like. He still asks about how you’re doing, you know that? I know you would love to know he really wants to take you out to the movies when you wake up.” 

“Your...your...oh, your hair has gotten so long now. I know you like your hair like that, but it might be better if I trim it close to what you had when you were...when you were awake,” Daisy allowed the smile return to her face as she watched her niece’s chest rise and fall with each breath. “Maybe it’s best you don’t wake up though...maybe you wouldn’t hurt the same way I do, baby.”

She scooted the chair closer and laid her head down onto’s her niece’s leg. She exhaled wearily, breath catching into a sob. She didn’t allow herself to succumb completely to the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. It wouldn’t do to let June see her such a mess upon waking up, especially after she wouldn’t have any idea what was happening. Then again, the young duck might never return to consciousness, forever oblivious to time passing by.

Daisy Duck hated Scrooge McDuck more than ever in that moment, wishing that he would suffer the same way she had. “I promise you, June, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get away with this. Scrooge McDuck is going to regret ever being alive...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥀


End file.
